


By the sword united

by fortytworedvines



Category: Holby City
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, English Civil War, F/F, Historical AU, bernie is a cavalier, gender conceal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:23:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortytworedvines/pseuds/fortytworedvines
Summary: In a quiet corner of England, the ongoing Civil War has mostly passed Holby by. Until, one fateful day, a troop of Cavaliers turn up to garrison Serena's beloved manor.





	1. Chapter One

Serena knelt on the ground, trowel in hand, pulling out the weeds that were trying to grow around her herbs. It was hot in the early summer sun, and she resolutely ignored the trickle of sweat that was making its way down the back of her neck. She’d been busy in her garden for a couple of hours now, content in the knowledge that Elinor and Jason were at their lessons and the household was, for the moment, in order. She paused for a moment to gaze fondly up at the large manor house that sat beyond the walled herb garden, grey stone soft in the sunlight. For all Edward’s faults he had brought her two pleasures; her daughter and this beautiful old manor house.

 

Edward was gone now, for the moment at least. The year was 1644, the tenth year of their marriage and the second of the civil war that was tearing the country apart. Edward had finally declared for parliament in January, taken all the men who could be spared from the village and manor and ridden off to join the army. Not that it was a surprise; Edward was a puritan through and through, with huge disdain for the riotous life that King Charles lived and the debauched, excessive nature of his Cavalier army. Life in Cromwell’s army would suit him. Serena had expressed the expected platitudes as he left, waved goodbye like a dutiful wife, and then shut herself in her room and danced a merry jig for her temporary freedom. Aside from the current, unlamented, absence of her husband, the war had, so far, passed their little corner of countryside by.

 

She sat back on her heels and wiped her face. The herb garden, her pride and joy, was looking good. Between her gardener Arthur’s work and her own she would have plenty of herbs to make her remedies and enough left over to spare a good amount for the healing woman in the village. While Mistress Naylor was generally feared by the village population for her sharp tongue, she was, nevertheless, the woman they went to when they fell ill. Long years had built up a certain amount of respect between Serena and Jac, although, given their respective stations, Serena thought they would never consider themselves friends.

She was just considering making a start on the next bed when a howl came from the house. “Mother. _Mother_!”

With a sigh, Serena pushed herself to her feet, dusted down her neat grey skirts and settled her discarded cap back on her head. She looked the model of a puritan wife, although she often longed for the brighter colours and joy of her youth.

“Aunty Serena!” Another voice wailed now, and Serena hurried out of the garden, across the large courtyard, to her house.

She closed the door behind her, blinking in the sudden gloom.

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Her chief maid was hurrying down the stairs towards her. “Elinor would take Jason’s paints and you know how he dislikes it.”

“It’s alright, Morven,” Serena smiled gently at the younger woman, “I’ll come and see to them now.”

In the large chamber designated to Elinor and Jason’s schooling, she found Elinor sulking in the window seat, while Jason attempted to clear up the mess of paints on the table.

“Where is Master Levy?”

“He went home early, Aunty,” Jason replied. “He said he had some duties to see to.”

“I see. And you two decided to have a fight, did you?”

“Why can’t he just share?” Elinor ran from the window to the door. “Everything is wrong since he came. I hate him!” She charged through the door, nearly knocking over Morven, and sobbed noisily down the corridor to her room.

Morven and Serena exchanged looks. “I’ll see to her,” the maid said, resigned.

“Thank you.” Serena turned back to Jason. In some ways she understood her daughter’s outburst; until Jason had arrived the year before she had had the sole attention of both her parents and had undoubtedly been spoilt by Edward, despite having committed the cardinal sin of being born female. Now she had to share her parents, her lessons and her toys, with a boy a year older than her, who was, unfortunately, decidedly odd. Serena bent to help Jason organise his colours and he smiled at her. She felt a bloom of sympathy. It was not his fault, after all, that his parents had died and he was a kind boy, if overly attached to set routines.

They got the paints sorted and Jason settled down happily to start a picture of the garden. Serena left the peaceful room regretfully, and headed down the corridor to check on Elinor. She met Morven coming out of her daughter’s room.

“She’s sleeping, my lady.”

Serena nodded and slipped past her maid into the room. Elinor was curled up in bed, tear stains visible against her pink cheeks.

“Oh, Elinor.” Serena sat cautiously on the edge of the bed and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “What am I going to do with you?”

After a moment of thoughtful contemplation, she slipped from Elinor’s room and headed down the wide staircase, across the hall, and through to the kitchen. Fletch, the head manservant, was busy stacking wood by the fire. He flashed her a cheeky grin as she entered, which she ignored. When she had first arrived at the manor she’d assumed him to be insolent, but it hadn’t taken her long to learn that he was like this with everybody, from the youngest stable lad to Master Levy. Everybody, apart from Edward.

“Can I help you, my lady?” he asked as she stood in the doorway.

She shook her head, “No thank you, Fletch.” Her gaze turned to her cook. If a cook was generally a model of his own cooking, then by all rights her household would be doing very badly. Henrik was a rail thin beanpole, a Swede who had arrived in Holby no-one quite knew how, usually seen with a frown line on his forehead. And yet his cooking was the best Serena had ever tasted. Why he remained was a mystery, but she was very grateful that he did.

“The standard meal is ready for dinner,” he said, catching her gaze. She sighed inwardly; after Elinor, Henrik had been most affected by Jason’s arrival in the household. She’d learned very quickly that if they deviated from a set routine of meals he would become anxious, fretful and, sometimes, inconsolable. Henrik chaffed under the rigidity of it all.

“It’s appreciated,” she said with a smile.

“Humph.”

She caught Fletch’s eye and he shrugged.

“Well, carry on, both of you.”

 

She headed back to the hall and opened the door. She took a deep breath and let the warm air and fresh scents of summer ease her soul. She had a good life, even if sometimes she wished for something more, some small excitement to liven the constant round of household management and care of the children.

For a few moments, she wiped her cares from her mind, focussed on the here and now; the soft sounds of the bees in the flowers, the gentle call of the pigeons nesting in the dovecote, the cool of the wood under her finger tips.

“My lady!” A shout from her stable lad roused her to the present. She took a few steps out of the door and Mikey came tearing down the lane towards her. “My lady!” he skidded to a halt at her feet. “Soldiers coming!”

Her heart hammered suddenly. “Is it my lord Edward?” she asked, schooling her voice to calm.

“No my lady! Cavaliers!”

Her hand flew to her throat, to tease the small pendant she wore there. So, war had finally come to Holby.

The lad was watching her anxiously but she could not summon a reassuring smile. “Go to the kitchens, Mikey, and stay there.”

He disappeared and she took a deep, steadying breath. She had survived ten years of Edward, she could survive this.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A troop of Cavaliers, led by one Captain Wolfe, arrives at Holby. Serena does her best to protect her household.

She could hear hoofbeats now. She turned tail, moved swiftly into the house. Her undermaid was heading to the parlour with a pile of clean linen.

“Jasmine!” The girl stopped and looked up. “Leave that now. There are soldiers coming. I need you to go upstairs, find Morven and take her and Jason to Elinor’s room. And stay there.”

The maid stared at her, jaw dropping open. “Now!” Serena snapped, and she fled.

Serena closed her eyes for a half second. One step at a time. She turned towards the kitchen, only to bump into Fletch.

“My lady, Mikey said soldiers were coming.”

Serena nodded tersely. “Will you stay with me?” She hated to ask, hated to lean on a servant like this, but she needed somebody on her side.

“Yes.” He smiled reassuringly, “It’ll be alright, my lady.”

“Will it?” Serena said, half to herself. She pulled herself rigidly upright and swept out of the hall to stand, resolutely, as a cavalcade of soldiers trotted down the drive towards her.

They were a jaunty crew, wearing their regimental blue. The officers were wearing the large hats favoured by the Cavaliers, feathers waving. Serena wasn’t fooled by appearances; they were the enemy and they would assuredly treat her so.

 

She clasped her hands together to prevent their trembling and stood her ground as the officers rode up to her.

“Lady Campbell?” The man in front spoke. She nodded and he doffed his hat in what seemed to her to be a pretence of politeness. “My name is Captain Wolfe.” He drew a letter from his pocket and passed it down to her. “The King requests you to give shelter to my company, and such provisions as we require.”

She took the paper, which was folded neatly and sealed. She didn’t open it but studied the captain steadily. He was of slim build, with blonde hair which fell messily around his ears, laughing brown eyes and an obvious air of authority.

“And if I refuse?”

His eyes narrowed. “Madam, your husband is in open rebellion against his anointed king. If you refuse to do as you are requested, than we shall throw you out and take the house regardless.”

It was much as she’d suspected. “Very well. My man Fletch will show you to the stables, where you will find space for your horses and accommodation for yourselves.” She looked side-long at Fletch, who shrugged resignedly.

The Captain snapped a command to the men behind him, who dismounted with some gratitude.

Fletch headed off with a trail of soldiers and horses behind him. The Captain, however, passed the reins of his horse to one of his men, and stood his ground, his two officers with him.

“This is Lieutenant di Lucca, and Lieutenant Copeland,” he nodded to each man in turn. “My officers and I will lodge in the manor,” he said, simply.

“But…” Serena started.

The Captain waited for her to finish her sentence, but she couldn’t. There was, after all, nothing she could do but acquiesce.

“Follow me,” she said, and led them through the porch into the hall. It was unusually quiet inside; her servants had clearly got the message to stay well out of the way. But they could hardly remain that way for long and her maids were young, attractive women and there were forty rambunctious soldiers in the stables. She came to a halt abruptly and the Captain narrowly avoided colliding with her.

“Captain,” she turned to him and didn’t try to prevent desperation colouring her voice. “I would ask for some assurances as to the safety of my servants. Especially my female servants.”

His face, which had seemed pleasant enough till now, hardened. “My soldiers do not interfere with unwilling women.” He must have noticed the scepticism in her face, because he added, “I shoot any of my men who rape.”

Serena felt her mouth fall open, snapped it shut quickly.

The Captain half-smiled. “I know the reputation that we Cavaliers have. But be assured, madam, your maids are in no danger. Unless they are willing, of course,” he added, offhandedly.

“They are pure, honest, women,” she snapped back, riled.

“Then nothing will happen. My lady, will you show us our rooms.”

“With pleasure,” she said, sarcastically, and dipped a curtsey. She led them up the stairs, to the bed chambers that had belonged, many years ago, to Edward’s parents. They had been empty for nearly the a decade now, but thanks to the attentions of the maids were still neat, tidy and free of dust.

She opened the doors for them and the two lieutenants looked in and appeared pleased. She hadn’t paid them much attention before and took the chance now to study them. Di Lucca was the older of the two, neither of them was tall and they both looked as if they could have been friendly, if they had met under different circumstances. She was just wondering how an Italian came to be serving in King Charles’s army when he spoke.

“This looks very pleasant.” He had a thick Scottish accent and the incongruency of it made her splutter a laugh, which she hurriedly turned into a cough.

“These will do nicely for my men,” the Captain said. “And now, where is your chief bedchamber?”

She stared at him, “That is my husband’s.”

“And your husband isn’t here, is he.”

“This is my household, sir, and I will tell you which rooms you can use.”

He stepped forward a pace so she had to tilt her head to look up at him. “Madam, this is no longer your household and you remain here at my allowance. You would do well not to forget it.”

She swallowed and nodded. “This way.” She slipped past him and led him along the gallery to the far end. She hadn’t been in Edward’s room since he’d left, although she’d asked Morven to carry on cleaning it. It was by far the largest bedchamber, with views out over the lane and the gardens. The door which connected it to her room was very well hidden, a secret known only to her and Edward, and this man would surely never find it by accident.

So she opened the door for the Captain and he stepped in, looking around with a satisfied smile. “Excellent. Now, excuse me, Lady Campbell.” He made her a half-bow and then shut the door so that she was stood alone in the corridor, wondering how on earth her life had been turned upside down in half an hour.

 

“My lady?” Morven was peering out of Elinor’s room, across the other side of the gallery.

Serena hastened around and slipped in, closing the door behind her.

“Are there soldiers, Aunty Serena?” Jason asked as she sat wearily in a chair.

“Yes, love,” she patted him on the shoulder. “I’m afraid that we must put up with a garrison of Cavaliers.”

She glanced over at her maids. They were both pale, and Morven had her arm around Jasmine.

“I have had assurances from the Captain that the men will – behave themselves.” She hastily reframed her sentence for Elinor’s ears.

“And do you believe him, my lady?” Morven asked softly.

She thought for a moment, remembering the hint of laughter she’d seen in his eyes, the way his men had obeyed him instantly, and the apparent politeness of his Lieutenant. “I do,” she said, eventually.

She moved to sit on the bed by Elinor, pulled her into a hug which Elinor, for a wonder, did not refuse. “Things are going to be different for a while. We have to be polite to these men, even though they’re our enemies. If they ask us to follow certain rules, then I am afraid we’ll have to do it.” She looked up at Jason, “Jason, love. Our routines might change a little. I’ll do what I can to keep them the same though.”

“Are we still having pigeon pie for dinner?”

“Yes, I expect so, as Henrik has already made it. I think we’ll have to share it though. Can you do that?”

Jason nodded, but Elinor stirred crossly. “Why do we have to? Why do we have to do what they want? They’re fighting father! Why should we do anything they say?”

“Because they are soldiers, dear, and they have orders from the King. If they turned us out we would have nowhere to go.”

Elinor pouted crossly and Serena sighed inwardly. She desperately hoped that Elinor would be able to control herself. But, thanks to Jason, she had more to worry about – specifically, how they were going to be able to provide enough food for all the soldiers without starving. “I’d better go and talk to Henrik,” she said reluctantly. “You all stay here, for the moment.”

 

The gallery was empty, for a moment, but then the door at the end opened and Captain Wolfe stepped out. He’d abandoned his hat and changed his regimental top for a softer doublet. He glanced her way and smiled. “My lady, you are a redoubtable woman, and if the army had half as many officers like you we would be assured of success.”

Serena raised an eyebrow. “You’re mocking me, Captain.”

“Not at all.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, and Serena thought, absurdly, that she would like to see him smile again. “You’ll join us for dinner? And your Lieutenants?”

“We would be delighted.” He didn’t move for a moment, then looked away from her abruptly. “Excuse me, I have things to do.” She watched him walk down the stairs and disappear out of the door, then sighed, and headed to the kitchen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Serena is the narrator here, gender and pronouns are what she perceives.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The soldiers settle in and Jason breaks the ice.

Serena stopped on the threshold of the kitchen, taken aback. The room was filled with people and noise, there was steam rising from what seemed to be a dozen pans and in the middle, Henrik directing everything with a small quirk of his lips that was his equivalent of a broad grin.

After a moment of thunderstruck paralysis she realised that a number of soldiers were accounting for the extra people, and that apparently Henrik had decided to share his kitchen with them. And cook for them. She could only hope it wasn’t their best meat.

“Henrik,” she called, over the hubbub.

He glanced over, wiped his forehead and came to stand by her. “My lady. We’re cooking a stew for the soldiers,” he said, anticipating her question.

“Not our best beef?” she asked with dismay.

He shot her a scornful look. “The rag ends of the last one.”

“Are the soldiers behaving themselves?”

Henrik pulled himself up so he could look down his nose at her. “They are in _my_ kitchen.”

Which Serena read as a yes. Then he relented a little, “They seem quite keen to learn some basic techniques. They’re good at following directions.”

Serena smiled, “Well, I’ll leave you to it then. Oh – I assume the soldiers are expecting to eat in the barn?”

Henrik nodded, “Yes. Compared with some of the accommodation they’ve been describing, it’s the height of luxury. Poor sods,” he added, unexpectedly.

Serena turned to leave then remembered what she’d actually come to discuss and faced him again. “Henrik,” she said quietly, making sure nobody else was within earshot, “I don’t know how long the troop will be with us. We must make the food stretch, do you understand?”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I understand.”

She smiled gratefully. “Thank you.” She touched his arm gently.

 

Back upstairs, she wrestled with Elinor’s hair. “There’s no need to dress for dinner,” she said with a grimace as she tugged the brush through tangled strands, “But you do need to look presentable, Elinor.”

“Ouch! I don’t see why,” Elinor grumbled.

“Sorry. Because, well, just because. We don’t want them to judge us, do we?”

Elinor frowned and folded her arms sulkily. “I won’t like them.”  
“Nobody’s asking you to like them, darling. Just to be neat and polite.”

“Aunty Serena? Do I need my hair brushing too?”

Jason had appeared in the doorway. Serena smiled at him. “No Jason, you look very smart.”

“Thank you. Aunty Serena, do you think the Captain will let me see his pistols?”

“Well...maybe.”

“I’d really like to try shooting one.” There was a wistful note in Jason’s voice and Serena made a mental note to ensure that the Captain was primed to say no to any such requests. Pistols did not belong in the hands of ten-year-old boys.

As Elinor continued to grumble, Serena could only hope that dinner would not be a complete disaster.

 

Serena had the children seated before the officers arrived. The Captain strode into the room and placed a bottle of wine in the middle of the table.

“Truce?” he said, smiling slightly at Serena.

Serena gazed at the bottle in dismay. Too many evenings with Edward had begun with a bottle of wine on the table and ended… badly.

“Just the one,” the Captain assured her, noticing her reaction, “Surely it won’t offend your puritan sensibilities?”

Serena smiled faintly. “Thank you, Captain.”

Luckily, Henrik chose that moment to bring in dinner, and Serena distracted herself dishing it all out.

She noticed the childish glee on the faces of the two young lieutenants and raised a querying eyebrow at the Captain.

“It’s been a tough month,” the Captain admitted softly.

“Have you really been sleeping under hedges?” Jason inquired curiously.

Serena shot him a glance but the Captain merely laughed. “Hedges, haystacks, any shelter we could find.”

“And some nights we didn’t find any,” Lieutenant Di Lucca added.

“What did you do then?” Jason asked.

“Slept in the open and thanked god it’s summer.”

“That must have been fun.”

The three men exchanged looks and laughed. “Oh to have the resilience of youth,” the Captain said. He smiled at Serena who felt her lips twisting in response. She schooled her expression back to sternness carefully. She should be resenting, hating this man and instead he made her want to laugh. She looked away from him and concentrated on helping the children with their food.

She was polite but not talkative for the rest of the meal, but her quiet was covered by Jason’s eager chat. He was clearly enthralled by the soldiers.

“I’m learning to play chess,” he said as the plates were cleared. “Do you play chess, Captain Wolfe?”

The Captain grinned, clearly won over. “Call me Bernie,” he said. “And yes, I do, although I don’t have much of a chance these days.”

“I’ve been playing Aunty Serena in the evenings but I’m much better than her now. Would you play a game with me?”

“Oh, well. Yes, if your aunty says I can.”

Serena looked at Jason’s eager face and the not much less eager expression on the Captain’s face and nodded. “Yes, you may.” Then she relaxed a little at their smiles and said, “Jason beats me every time now, it’ll be good for him to have a proper match.”

“Thank you Aunty Serena. Captain Bernie, I’ll show you the way.”

Elinor decided on an early bed so Serena sat in the corner of her chamber, ostensibly sewing and watching Jason and the Captain play chess out of the corner of her eye.

The Captain seemed more at ease than he had been since they’d arrived, handled Jason’s frequent questions easily and, by the smile on his face, was enjoying himself.

“You’re very good,” Jason said after a while, “I’ve normally beaten Aunty Serena twice by now.”

“Well, maybe I should give your aunty some lessons.” He slipped a sidelong glance at Serena, a smile with a hint of something more.

She gulped. Dangerous territory indeed. Your enemy, she chanted to herself over and over again. He’s your enemy.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning Captain Wolfe led his soldiers out into the courtyard to drill them. Serena sat in her comfortable window seat attacking her embroidery and trying not to be distracted by them. As she caught herself gazing out of the window with her hands lying still in her lap for the twentieth time she resigned herself to failure. The Captain was a dashing figure, trim in his blue suit, feathered cap jaunty on his head. But what she was increasingly impressed by was how his soldiers behaved; his authority was clear but they weren’t afraid of him, followed his instructions without sulks or grumbles. She could see from here the smiles on the faces of the men and the occasional laugh floated up to her.

She’d been intimidated by him yesterday morning – was it only yesterday! – but his behaviour since, especially towards Jason, had shown him to be kind and amusing. Certainly, she felt safer with him in the house than she had ever done with Edward.

Elinor and Jason finished their lessons at midday and after a quiet family lunch, Serena took them into the garden to instruct them on uses of herbs and how to tend vegetables. They heard the soldiers march out of the manor and then Serena put them from her mind and focussed on the children, trying to impart her wisdom and keep them from fighting constantly.

 

She was in her chamber when they returned, looked out to see the men head to the stables and the Captain walk slowly into the house. He looked weary. Before she’d thought about it she left her room, met him half way down the stairs.

“You will come to dinner tonight? All three of you?”

He looked up at her and a smile crossed his tired face. “Thank you. We will.”

She carried on past him, then stopped and turned as she remembered something important. He was stood still, watching her and for a second she faltered, feeling her heart jump oddly.

“Captain,” she said before the pause became too long. “Jason is keen to fire a pistol. You won’t let him, will you?”

He grinned suddenly. “No. Would you like to try it?”

“Me?” She felt her face flush in confusion.

“Why not?”

“It’s… it’s… I…” She stared up at him and he laughed.

“Well, if you ever do want to, just ask.” He turned finally and Serena watched him as he headed upstairs for what had, until yesterday, been her husband’s bedchamber.

 

At dinner, Elinor found her voice. Apparently she’d spent her lessons with Master Levy discussing the war and now she quizzed the two lieutenants on the battles that they had fought.

Captain Wolfe raised his eyebrows at Serena and she shrugged hopelessly. Trust Elinor to pick the most unsuitable thing to become interested in. But, on the other hand, Elinor looked brighter and happier than she had done in a long time and the two men didn’t seem to mind the inquisition.

“Captain Bernie, will you play chess with me again tonight?” Jason said, at a lull in the conversation.

The Captain looked across at Serena questioningly and she nodded. It was definitely easier than playing Jason herself.

“I’d love to, Jason,” he said with a smile.

That evening the atmosphere was positively convivial. Serena sat with Elinor in the window seat, working over some embroidery with her. It was wonderful, she thought, to be able to give Elinor the individual attention she’d been so lacking in since Jason had arrived in their lives. And Jason himself was clearly having a good time playing chess with somebody who could really stretch him. Serena looked over as the Captain made a quiet remark and Jason laughed. And suddenly how much she wished that this was truly her life; that she had a husband who was kind and attentive and good with the children and not a violent drunk who everybody was afraid of.

 

When she looked back, Serena thought of the days that followed as a peaceful, happy time. The household fell into a routine. The soldiers in the barn, with Henrik supervising their food, were more comfortable and better fed than they had been in months and consequently caused no trouble at all. In the day the Captain would drill them and take them out, marching around the countryside, enforcing the King’s rule.

Then, the three officers would come for dinner with the household. Elinor and Jason were soon calling them all by their first names, although Serena didn’t. She might have managed with the two lieutenants, but calling the Captain by his first name would be to finally admit that he wasn’t, truly, her enemy. And it would suggest an intimacy that she knew she had to stay well away from.

Captain Wolfe was a regular guest after dinner. He’d sit and play with Jason for hours, until Serena enforced bedtime. Jason looked forward to their chess games, talked about them constantly and Serena could see that their battles were slowly becoming more even, with the Captain on occasion struggling to win. Lieutenants Di Lucca and Copeland didn’t stay often after dinner, but when they did they held Elinor entranced, teaching her battle tactics and marching songs.

The upshot of all of this was that the children were easier to deal with, Serena was content and even Morven and Jasmine could be heard humming as they worked.

 

As the summer wore on, with the war still seeming far away, the wonderful absence of her husband and the gaggle of soldiers in the barn becoming the norm, Serena thought she’d never been happier.

 

Fletch came to see her at harvest time. “We don’t have the men, my lady,” he said with a frown. “The harvest needs to be brought in and we won’t manage all of it, not since Lord Edward took most of the men with him.”

Serena pondered. “We’ll do as much as we can. Then I suppose, we’ll have to ask the Griffin for help.” She shared a rueful look with Fletch. Neither of them were particularly fond of asking their neighbour for assistance. “Do we have enough men to start in the south field, at least?”

Fletch shook his head, “No, but if we persuade some of the women to help as well we might manage.”

“Might manage what?” Captain Wolfe appeared behind them suddenly. Serena swung round and he blushed slightly. “I apologise for interrupting, you looked worried. I wondered if I could be of assistance.” He looked so bashful that Serena nearly smiled.

“It’s the harvest,” Fletch explained, “Since Lord Edward left we don’t have the men we need.”

The Captain looked at Fletch and then Serena. “Perhaps we could help?” he suggested.

“You? Why would you?”

“We are quartered here for the foreseeable future,” he pointed out, “We have a vested interest in a successful harvest. When do you need us?”

“That would solve the problem,” Fletch said, “My lady?”

Serena stared at the Captain for a moment. “ _Us_? Would you work too?”

“I like to think I’m as capable as my men.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Serena murmured, then, as she caught a flash of humour in the Captain’s eyes she smiled and held out her hand. “Thank you for your offer, Captain.”

His hand slipped easily into hers. She could feel the callouses built up from years of riding and fighting as he gripped her hand firmly. Her skin tingled at the feel of his, at the way their hands felt so perfect clasped together. She’d never felt anything so right in her life. She gazed at him, speechless, unable to let go of his hand, unable to say anything, and he looked back, as though he could read every thought in her head. She didn’t know how long they stood, hands joined, staring at each other, until Fletch coughed and the spell broke.

“I’ll let Fletch give you the details,” Serena said as she stepped hastily back. With one final backward glance at the Captain, she headed for the house and the relative privacy of her chamber.


	5. Chapter 5

One morning, a week after the harvest had been successfully gathered in, an unexpected clatter of hooves made Serena look up from her gardening. Straightening with a sigh, she dusted her hands against her skirt and headed for the house.

A man wearing the colours of Edward’s parliamentary regiment was standing by his horse, patting it down. Fletch was hurrying from the stables and as Serena neared them, took the stranger’s horse and led it off.

“Lady Campbell?”

“Yes?” Her mouth was suddenly dry. There was an odd expression on the man’s face.

“My name is Thomas. May I speak with you? I have... news.”

She nodded and beckoned him to follow her. Morven appeared as they entered the house, blinking in the sudden darkness after the bright light of the day.

“Wine please, Morven,” Serena said, her tongue slurring around the words as though she was already drunk. “In the drawing room.”

She led the man – Thomas – into the room and gestured him into a seat. He sat down and she stood, warily, by the window. Neither of them spoke.

Morven broke the silence, appearing with a flagon of wine, pitcher of water and several glasses.

The man helped himself to water, drinking eagerly. When he finally set his glass down, Serena felt ready to burst.

“Your news?” she prompted.

He looked up at her, licked his lips nervously. “It’s about your husband, my lady. Lord Edward. He’s dead.”

 

From her bedroom window seat, Serena watched Thomas ride away. She felt numb. Edward had left no final word for her, no last letter, and she didn’t know whether to be laugh or cry. He’d died without pain apparently – but then they all said that, didn’t they? – of dysentery. He hadn’t even managed to die heroically in battle, but from some combination of bad meat and diseased water.

She lent her head against the cool glass. She’d asked Morven to send Elinor and Jason to her and then tell the rest of the household. Not one would mourn him; he’d ruled the house as he’d ruled her – cruelly and drunkenly. And now he was gone. She’d have to send for their lawyer in the morning, find out what lay in Edward’s last will and testimony. Surely, though, there would be no surprises. Elinor would inherit – how Edward hated that Serena had been unable to bear him a son – but she would need Serena to stay in the house. Jason would probably have some money. Serena expected nothing for herself. She wanted nothing from him.

 

There was a noise at the door. “Come in,” she called, and Elinor and Jason entered the room, twin expressions of puzzlement on their faces.

“Darlings,” she began, and faltered. Perhaps Elinor would be sad. Edward had spoilt her, after all.

“Mother?”

Serena reached out and drew Elinor to her, stroked back her hair from her forehead. “We’ve had some bad news,” she said gently. “Your father has died.”

“Oh,” Elinor said, without much emotion.

“What happened, Aunty Serena? Was he injured?”

“He was ill,” Serena hedged, “And the doctor couldn’t make him better.”

Jason seemed unmoved, but then he hadn’t known Edward for very long and Edward had not been kind to him.

“Elinor?”

Elinor breathed out deeply. “He wasn’t nice to you, mother. He wasn’t nice to anybody.” She lifted her head defiantly. “I’m glad he’s dead.”

Serena bit her lip. The words of chastisement that she knew she ought to say refused to come, for Elinor’s opinion too closely matched her own. Instead she nodded. “Run back to your lessons then, you two. Work hard.”

The door closed behind them and she settled back quietly into the window seat. Ten years of marriage, over. She was a widow. Free, finally. Her lips twitched in a tiny smile.

 

An increasing rumble of noise in the lane told her that the soldiers were back from their morning exercises. As she watched they came into sight, the Captain at the head of the group, his hat at a rakish angle, feather waving jauntily. He was chatting to Lieutenant Copeland. Serena smiled involuntarily as he dismissed the men and entered the house.

A few minutes later there was a tap at the door. “Come in,” she called, thinking it would be Morven with a warming cup of tea.

There was an awkward cough and she swung round to see the Captain there, his blonde curls tumbling untidily around his face, looking awkward. “Excuse the intrusion, but I heard...” He shook his head and moved swiftly across the room to stand next to her. “Lady Campbell, I’m sorry about your husband.”

“Are you?” She looked up at him. “I’m not. He was a drunk and a liar. He tried to seduce the serving women and he beat me.”

The Captain cursed under his breath and she raised her eyebrows.

“If I was married to a woman like you...” His gaze fixed on hers, “I would tell her every day how beautiful she was, how clever, how lucky I was to have found her.”

She shivered at the heat of his look. “Captain...” She held out her hand to him and he pulled her up, reached out a tremulous hand to stroke her cheek.

“I’m sorry you were married to a creature like that,” he said. “Serena.”

She leant into his touch. “He’s gone now.” She felt lightening racing through her, couldn’t stop herself moving forward so she was barely an inch from him.

“You deserve better.”

“Bernie,” she whispered and the gap between them was closed. Her body was flush against his and she could feel the heaving of his chest. She looked up and read in his eyes his desire for her.

He cursed again and then, suddenly, his mouth was on hers, kissing her as she’d never been kissed before. She gasped at the thrill that ran through her, at the knowledge that she wanted this man like she’d never wanted anyone. Her hands found their way into his hair.

“Lovely,” she murmured as she ran her fingers through it.

The Captain’s arms were around her, holding her tight, running a fire up and down her back as he caressed her. “Serena, my beautiful Serena.”

She opened her mouth to his tongue, let him lick into her till she was trembling and the only thing holding her up was his arms around her.

“Bernie,” she gasped again, “Oh, Bernie.”

His lips moved to her neck, nipped her skin delicately and she shuddered, arched her neck to give him better access. She didn’t even notice she was moving backwards until she felt the wall behind her. His hands were at her waist, holding her tight. Even through layers of dress and petticoats she felt his palms blazing, as though he could mark her. He kissed her mouth again and unthinking, eyes closed she fumbled for the edge of his doublet, slipped her hands underneath so there was only the thin layer of his shirt between them and then she found the edge of that, pulled until her fingertips were grazing his skin. So soft, she thought and then suddenly his warmth was gone as he stepped hastily backwards. She opened her eyes to see him flushed and backing away.

“Bernie?”

“I’m – I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “This was a mistake.” He looked at her, the desire on his face faded into something resembling acute misery. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and then he turned and fled, the chamber door banging shut behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Captain Wolfe did not appear for dinner that night. Elinor and Jason exchanged puzzled glances and the two lieutenants shifted uncomfortably.

“Where’s Captain Bernie, Dom?” Jason asked.

“He said he’s been neglecting the men,” Dom said, “He’s eating with them.”

“He will come and play chess with me later, won’t he?”

“I don’t know, Jason.”

Dinner was a quiet affair. Serena toyed with her food, preoccupied with thoughts of the Captain, answering Jason’s questions in monosyllables. The lieutenants, uncertain with the odd atmosphere, thinking that their presence was probably unwelcome, given the circumstances, excused themselves as soon as the meal was over.

Serena and the children retired to her chamber. Jason picked up a chess piece, worried it between his fingers.

“I’ll play with you, Jason,” Serena said after a moment, “I know I’m not quite up to the Captain’s standards but at least you’ll have a game.”

“Doesn’t he like me any more?” Jason asked plaintively as he sat down.

“Oh darling, no. It’s nothing you’ve done,” Serena patted his shoulder, “He’s probably busy with his men, like Lieutenant Copeland said.” She sat down opposite him, briefly leant her head in her hands before straightening with a smile for her nephew.

“Are you sad, mother?” Elinor asked from the window seat where she was attacking her embroidery, “I didn’t think that you were upset that father is dead.”

Serena looked at her sharply. “It’s complicated,” she said after a moment. “It’s been a strange day.” The fact that she was much more upset about the Captain kissing her and running away than her husband dying was a secret she would not divulge to anybody.

Her chamber felt sad and lonely without the Captain’s presence. Jason and Elinor went to bed early and Serena let Morven help her out of her dress and tuck her into bed. She curled up around her pillow, remembering the feel of his lips against hers, the firmness of his hands and the softness of his skin under her fingertips.

 

 

Serena sat bleary eyed at the breakfast table. Between thoughts of her dead husband and remembering the thrill of the Captain’s kiss and then the look on his face as he ran away from her, she had barely slept.

Morven had said nothing, only offered her a pot of powder to disguise the deep bags under her eyes. If she was surprised that Serena appeared to be mourning her husband, she said nothing.

There was an unusual quiet in the house. “The soldiers left early this morning, my lady,” Morven said when Serena remarked on it.

“Oh.” Serena desperately wanted to see the Captain, to talk to him, about anything. Even a remark on the weather would do. But she was doomed to disappointment.

The soldiers returned and if Captain Wolfe had gone to his chamber at any point he had slipped into the house without her noticing. She spent longer than she should gazing out of her window, hoping to hear or see him. Instead, she noticed that Morven was taking a surprising number of trips into the garden, spotted her smiling at Arthur as he worked busily. Well, she was happy for them, she thought as Morven touched Arthur’s arm.

The day passed without any sign of the Captain.

The Lieutenants joined them for dinner, entertaining Elinor as usual, but Serena couldn’t ask where the Captain was. What business was it of hers, after all?

 

The following day brought Edward’s lawyer to the house. An arrogant man that she had never liked, he nevertheless was very good at his job. He offered perfunctory words of condolence, then spread out the various documents over her table. It was as she’d suspected; Elinor inherited the manor and lands although Serena would look after them until she was twenty one. The title would pass to her first male child. Jason had a token amount of money.

“And for yourself,” the lawyer said.

Serena looked at him. “I wasn’t expecting anything, Mr Self.”

“Lord Campbell had originally made no provision for you,” he said, “But I pointed out to him it would look odd. So you have his mother’s dower house and the contents of his wine cellar.” He looked at her as though expecting some praise, but Serena felt numb. The dower house was a wreck. On the very edge of the manor lands, it had been uninhabited for decades. And as for leaving her the wine, he was taunting her from the grave.

“My lady?”

Serena shook herself, managed a smile. “Thank you, Mr Self. Is there anything else that needs to be done?”

“No.” He stood up, shuffled the papers into his bag. Serena showed him to the door, watched him ride away on the neat grey horse that she thought matched his grey personality nicely.

 

After a week, a week of quiet evenings (punctuated by arguing children) and longing, she finally crossed paths with the Captain on the stairs.

He stopped short at the sight of her. “My lady,” he muttered and edged to the side of the stairs to let her past.

“Captain,” she said with a quiver, then more firmly, “Captain, I understand that you – that you -” _Don’t want to see me any more._ She gulped and changed course. “Jason misses you. I’m no match for him at chess.” She looked at him pleadingly, “Please don’t punish him for a mistake I made.”

“Mistake?” He finally looked directly at her. “I – you didn’t do anything wrong, my lady.”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” Her voice cracked with emotion.

He stared at her for a moment. “Tell Jason I’ll resume our matches tonight.”

Serena nodded, waited for more but he ducked his head again, stomped tiredly up the stairs.

 

He was waiting for them after dinner, smiled at Jason and carefully avoided Serena’s gaze. It was good to have him back, Serena thought as she read to Elinor in the window seat. But the easy atmosphere of before was gone. She could see the tension in his body and he didn’t laugh and joke with Jason like he used to.

_Why did you run away_? She thought to herself for the hundredth time. There were several possible explanations; being on opposite sides of the war, her bereavement. But when she closed her eyes she could feel his lips on hers, feel his breath against her skin and she wanted to throw herself at him, demand to know why he couldn’t just kiss her, take her to bed, propriety be damned.

At least Jason and Elinor were happy, that was better than nothing. She’d explained Edward’s will to them but with nothing changing for the next eleven years, apart from the absence of a man that nobody had liked, they hadn’t been particularly interested. In the week of the Captain’s absence their arguments had grown again but now as Elinor curled into her arms and Jason grinned at the chess board, she hoped they’d settle down again.

 

That week went slowly. Serena worked in her garden in the morning while the children studied. She noticed Morven made excuses to come out frequently, always managing to exchange a few words with Arthur when she did. Serena wondered if it was serious between them, if they’d soon ask her permission to marry. Despite her own pangs as she dreamt nightly of the Captain’s kiss and woke to his silence, she was happy to see their romance blossoming.

The household had adjusted easily to the news of Edwards demise. Sometimes Serena wondered if nobody had expected to come back, had removed him neatly from their lives the moment he’d marched off to fight.

In the evening the Captain joined them after dinner, never ventured more than the most necessary politeness with Serena, apparently concentrating all his thoughts on his chess games. She missed him. Silly, she thought, to miss him when he was in the same room as her. But still, she did. She missed his laughing glances and his quiet remarks and the way his smile could light up his face.

 

Serena was working in her garden as usual on the morning it all changed.

She heard shouts and the clatter of hooves unexpectedly early and then soldiers were pouring into the yard, a noisy unordered rabble. She stood, a sense of foreboding shooting through her, dusted her skirts and moved swiftly out of the garden towards the house. As she rounded the corner she stopped abruptly. A number of the soldiers were supporting injured friends. Lieutenant Copeland was almost horizontal over his saddle, being propped upright by Lieutenant Di Lucca.

Serena hastened towards them. “Raf!” she called, finally dropping the formal title. He swung round, one hand still firmly on his friend, relief on his face.

“My lady.”

“Get the injured men into the stables. I’ll send for our local healing woman. Fletch!” She raised her voice as Fletch appeared from the house, “Run into the village and fetch Mistress Naylor.”

“What if she won’t come?”

“Offer her any amount of money. Go, now!” Fletch swung himself onto a horse and galloped towards the village. Serena turned back to Raf. “Where’s the Captain?”

“Here.” The Captain was supporting one of the injured men, just a boy by the looks of him. He looked directly at Serena, holding her gaze firmly for the first time in weeks. “Thank you.” He passed the boy he was supporting awkwardly to another man, helped Raf get Dom down from his saddle. “You’ll be alright Dom,” he murmured reassuringly as Dom gasped with pain. “Lets get him into the stable,” he added to Raf, “Better there than all the way up the stairs.” Raf nodded, slung one of Dom’s arms around his shoulder while the Captain took the other. Serena watched as they carried him off, moving slowly under their burden.

The yard was emptying now. She grasped at one of the few men left. “What happened?”

He looked at her bleakly. “We came across a group of roundheads.”

Serena pressed a hand to her chest. “What happened? Are they going to come here? Do we need to prepare for a siege?”

A tiny smile crossed his face. “No need my lady. They’re a lot worse off than us.”

Then there were hoofbeats and a call. “My lady!”

She turned away from the soldier to see Fletch bringing his horse to a neat stop, Mistress Naylor perched behind him, one arm around his waist and one arm around a large basket, looking decidedly unamused.

“Thank you, Fletch,” Serena said as she moved to help Mistress Naylor down. “And thank you for coming, Mistress Naylor.”

“Fletch has promised me the earth,” she replied, “Now, where are the patients?”

Fletch led her through to the stable and Serena realised that she’d been remiss, that she herself could do, if not quite as good a job as Jac Naylor, at least a solidly competent one. With a decisive nod she headed for the house to retrieve her medicinal basket. She slipped in the door, headed for the storage box at the far end of the hall where she kept it. She was bent over the box, rummaging through it crossly, as she was certain it had been on the top last time she checked, when she heard a soft noise of pain and limping footsteps going hesitantly up the stairs. She frowned to herself, at last finding the basket, which had mysteriously become buried under a load of blankets. Hoisting it firmly, she moved towards the stairs and then stopped short. A trail of blood led across the hall, up the stairs.

Her heart clenched with fear. She clutched her basket of remedies, lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs, shivering as she followed the trail of bloody splotches to the Captain’s bedchamber.

“Captain Wolfe?” she knocked on his door.

“Go away,” came the mumbled reply.

“You’re hurt, let me in.”

“I’m fine.” The hiss of pain that accompanied the words would have proved the lie even if Serena had failed to notice all the blood.

“You’re not.” She dropped her voice, splayed her hands against the door, pressed her head close, willed it to open. “I can help. Please, Bernie.”

There was an ominous silence from inside the room. Serena tried the door – locked. She bit her lip. It seemed she had no choice. She slipped into her room and headed for the secret door. Hidden from view from both sides, Serena had often wondered who had put it in and why. She had hated its existence while Edward occupied the adjoining room. Now, she could only bless the mystery builder.

She ran her fingers across the wooden panelling of the wall until she found the right place. Pressed, waited for the click, and pushed the door open. Hefting her basket again, she stepped into what had once been Edward’s room.

She glanced around, too perturbed to pay much attention to the mess, and located Bernie leaning against the wall by the door, pale and sweating, with his eyes closed. His jacket was half off one shoulder, his fingers pressed to the shirt underneath in an attempt to stem the flow of blood.

Serena dashed to the chest where the spare linen was kept. Dragging out a sheet, she plucked her scissors from her basket and began to cut the sheet into strips.

“No.” His voice sounded faint. Serena glanced up to see him watching her, eyes dulled with pain. “You mustn’t.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she snapped, “Do you want to die?”

“Not that bad,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

Serena ignored him. “Right, let’s get you onto the bed.” She hauled Bernie to his feet by his good arm and half carried him to the bed. He was lighter than she’d expected. “Now, let’s get this off and see what we’re dealing with.” She tugged his jacket gently as she spoke.

If it was possible, Bernie went even paler. “Serena...”

There was no way she could take the jacket off without causing him pain, so she picked up her scissors and cut it neatly from his body. There was obviously no way she could save the shirt either. She gathered a strip of cloth ready and began to cut the shirt. It was saturated with blood and she grimaced as she flicked the pieces to the floor.

And then she sat back, momentarily confused, because underneath the shirt, Bernie was wearing what looked like a tight bandage around his chest, with laces fastening it at the front. It was already partly split, the deep gash starting above and running through it. Serena pressed her cloth to the visible wound and gently cut through the fastenings.

“I’m sorry,” Bernie gasped, as Serena drew the last layer of cloth away and stared in disbelief at the neat, rounded breasts that she’d just uncovered.

“What…?” she asked, even as she pressed the linen pad to cover the rest of the bloody gash.

Bernie gasped with pain. Her good arm found Serena’s hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered again, “Please – please don’t tell anyone.” And then she fainted.


	7. Chapter 7

Serena worked in a daze; holding her linen pads on Bernie’s wound until the bleeding slowed, cleaning it with her honey mix. She kept catching herself staring at the other woman’s chest, averting her eyes when she realised what she was doing. No wonder Bernie hadn’t wanted her to come in the room. How long had she been disguising herself like this?

Eventually the wound was clean, dressed and needed bandaging. Serena took Bernie’s good shoulder, rolled her gently to slip the cloth underneath her, tried to ignore the softness of her pale skin. At length, her work was done and Bernie was lying, unconscious still, on her bed. Serena stared at her for a moment. Now she knew the truth she could barely believe how Bernie had been hiding it. Then she blinked. It wasn’t decent, leaving her like that. She slipped from the bed, swung open the heavy wardrobe. Bernie had put her clothes away, the ones that weren’t strewn over the floor, anyway, and it was odd to see the bright blues hanging where Edward’s dull and serviceable grey and black clothes had once been. She dug through them, eventually pulled out a loose linen shirt, which she carried back to the bed and draped over Bernie’s prone body.

There was nothing more to be done for the moment and she left the room the same way she had come in. In the privacy of her own room, she pressed her hands to her head. For days now she had been dreaming of Bernie’s kiss. But Bernie was a woman. Bernie had kissed her knowing they were both women. It was giving Serena a headache, thinking about it. She sighed, wiped the stray tear from her eye and decided that for the moment she was best off seeing what was going on in the stables.

 

The sight before her impressed her. The injured soldiers were lying in a neat row, most of the others banished to the far end. A select few were rushing about on Mistress Naylor’s instructions and she, with Jasmine, was working her way down the line.

“Oh, hello,” was Jac Naylor’s casual greeting. “Jasmine is helping me. You don’t mind, do you?”

Serena bit her lip to remind herself that this was just what Jac was like; she addressed Serena as an equal on a good day. “No, not at all, if she’s being useful.”

Jasmine flashed her a quick smile and then turned back to what she was doing.

“Where is Lieutenant Copeland?”

“Far end,” Jac pointed. “The other officer is with him. Where’s their Captain? This one,” she pointed at the soldier she was tending to, “Thinks he might have been hurt.”

The soldier nodded, then grimaced at the movement. “Thought I saw him take a sword.”

“I’ve seen to him,” Serena said. Jac raised an eyebrow. “Later,” Serena murmured, nodding her head towards the soldier.

Jac stared at her for a moment then shrugged. “Later then.”

“Do you need my help here?”

Jac shook her head, turned her concentration back to the man in front of her. Serena felt as though she’d been dismissed from her own stables. Just to make the point, she headed to the far end to check on Dom Copeland.

“He’s not too bad,” Raf said as she felt for Dom’s pulse. “I’m sure he’ll be better in no time.”  
“Wouldn’t dare not be,” Dom murmured. “She’s scary, that one.”

Serena laughed, squeezed his hand gently, patted Raf absently on the shoulder before leaving. She thought she’d ask Henrik to make up some nice beef broth to help the healing process along.

 

The kitchen was busy, Henrik had a number of pans steaming, Mikey underfoot and Fletch and several soldiers hovering with spoons, stirring here and there.

“I see we’ve been thinking along the same lines,” Serena said.

Henrik glanced at her. “What? Oh. Yes. Broth for the soldiers.”

For the second time in half an hour Serena felt as though she’d been demoted from her position. Although perhaps it didn’t really matter, if people did their jobs competently, whether they addressed her as ‘my lady’ or not.

Henrik began ladling broth into bowls, passing them over to the soldiers to carry out to the barn.

“Henrik, I’ll take one.” Serena held out her hands. “For the Captain,” she explained.

She carried it carefully up the stairs, into her own room and then through the secret door to Bernie’s room. She was lying still on the bed and Serena wondered if she ought to get her smelling salts. She placed the bowl on the table, was about to go back to her own room to fetch them when a floorboard creaked and Bernie stirred.

Serena dropped to her knees by the bed. “Captain. How are you feeling?” She scanned her face closely.

“Sore,” Bernie whispered. She pressed a hand to the dressing that covered her wound. “Thank you.” Serena squeezed her free hand and Bernie’s eyes flickered briefly closed. “I need to apologise.”

“What for?”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you, it was wrong of me. You thought I was a man, I took advantage of you. Forgive me?”

The depth of pain in Bernie’s eyes made Serena tremble. “I forgive you.”

Bernie relaxed back into the pillows, some of the rigidity leaving her body. “Thank you.” Her voice was slightly lighter now, whether from pain or the fact that she didn’t need to keep up her pretence, Serena couldn’t discern.

“Here,” Serena said, “I brought you some broth.”

Bernie tried to sit up, stifled a gasp. Serena reacted without thought, clasped her firmly around her good shoulder to pull her up, shoved pillows behind her to support her. Bernie clutched the shirt that Serena had draped over her to her chest as Serena stepped back.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to help me.”

Serena raised an eyebrow. “Really? I beg to differ.” She tugged the shirt from Bernie’s hand, kept her eyes firmly up as she slipped it over Bernie’s head. Bernie managed to get one arm through an arm hole. “Are you particularly fond of this?” Serena asked, picking up her scissors. When Bernie shook her head, she cut neatly up the other side so that she could pull it over Bernie’s arm. Then she fetched her needle and thread, tacked the bottom up so that the two sides held together, the sleeve hanging useless and empty.

“Now,” she said as she finished. “Soup.”

Bernie flushed but allowed Serena to spoon the soup into her mouth.

“Why are you doing this?” Bernie asked when the bowl was empty. “You don’t have to. I hurt you, I lied to you.”

“I liked you,” Serena said after a moment. She twisted the spoon between her fingers, staring down at it to avoid meeting Bernie’s eyes. “I – more than liked you.”

“And now?”

“I don’t know,” Serena whispered. “But I’m still looking after you.”

There was a pause and Bernie scrubbed her eyes. Then she asked, “How’s Dom? And the others who were wounded?”

“I think they’ll all live,” Serena said, in an attempt at a light hearted tone. “Mistress Naylor is so scary that none of them would dare to die.”

“I don’t think I’d argue with her either.” Bernie’s eyes were closing and she leant back heavily.

Serena removed the pillows behind her, lowered her carefully down onto the bed. “You get some sleep, Captain. I’ll be back later.”

“Serena,” Bernie’s hand clutched hers, “Thank you.”

Serena squeezed gently. “Sleep well,” she hesitated a moment, “Bernie.”

 

At the stables, she found Jac telling Jason and Elinor off thoroughly. She glared at Serena. “Kindly keep these children from getting in my way.”

“We wanted to see Dom and Raf,” Elinor whined to Serena.

“And Captain Bernie,” Jason added.

“You’ve seen Dom and Raf, now go,” Jac said, with hands on her hips.

Raf appeared at that moment and held out his hands to the children. “Come on you two, why don’t we go for a walk.”

Serena gaped at them as Elinor and Jason went off happily with him. “Why doesn’t that work for me?” she wondered out loud.

Jac cleared her throat. “The Captain?”

“I’ve patched h-him up,” Serena stumbled. “He’s sleeping now.”

“Do you want me to take a look?”

“No! I mean, no, thank you. He’s very private. Asked that nobody apart from me treats him.”

Jac’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, it’s like that is it? Fine. On your head be it.”

She turned abruptly to go back into the stables and Serena realised that soon the entire company would think that she and the Captain were becoming involved. She sighed. What a mess.

Nobody needed her, so she went back to her chamber. All she seemed to have done this afternoon was wander pointlessly around her manor. Her window seat called her and she curled up in it, stared out the window at nothing in particular as her thoughts circled yet again back to Bernie. Now she knew, finally, why he had run away from her that day. She closed her eyes to remember again; her back against the wall, his – no, _her_ lips against her own, the softness of the skin beneath her shirt… She had wanted Bernie more than she had ever wanted anybody before, more than she’d even been aware that she _could_ want somebody. And Bernie had wanted her, wanted her badly enough to risk everything.

What if… What if Serena had discovered her secret then? Would she have pushed Bernie away in shock? But Bernie was still the same person at heart; still the person who had charmed Serena against her better judgement, who had made her laugh and had made their evenings so much more enjoyable.

What if… If she’d run her hands over Bernie’s chest. What would it have felt like? She imagined Bernie, flushed and full of desire and…

Serena squeaked. Jumped from her seat to find a book, embroidery, anything to distract herself. She stumbled as she hit the floor, landing with a thud. And next door, Bernie called out, “Serena?”

Serena dusted herself down, pressed her hands to flaming cheeks and took a deep breath to compose herself.

“Do you need anything?” she asked, pushing the secret door shut behind her.

“Just… company?” Bernie said hesitantly. 

“What about a game of chess? Although I’m not as good as Jason.”

“I’m not up to much at the moment anyway,” Bernie said with a wan smile.

Serena fetched the chess set, arranged it on a table, putting herself neatly as far away from Bernie as she could politely manage. Bernie watched her with a resigned air.

“White for you?”

Bernie nodded. “Fine.” She moved a piece, stretching slightly awkwardly. “Could you help me sit up a bit?”

Serena helped her up, trying to be gentle with her touch and feeling it burn her. “What’s your name?” she asked abruptly. “I can’t call you Bernie  now .”

Bernie laughed slightly. “But it  _is_ Bernie. I was christened Berenice,” she said with a  comical  wince, “And I’ve gone by Bernie since I could express an opinion.”

“Berenice.” Serena rolled the syllables around her tongue. “That’s nice.”

“Doesn’t suit me though.”

“Maybe not.” Serena moved a pawn without much thought.

The next moves were made in silence. Serena tried to concentrate on the game rather than the woman across the table, but whenever she looked up it was to Bernie’s gentle gaze fixed on her.

“Checkmate,” Bernie said eventually.

Serena studied the board. “So it is. I said I wasn’t as good as Jason.”

“I could teach you, if you want.”

Serena toyed with her king. “We’re not very good enemies, are we?”

“I think we stopped being enemies the same day that we met.”

“I didn’t want to like you.”

“I didn’t expect to like you. But you were brave and strong and … beautiful.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Bernie’s hand crept across the table, covered Serena’s. “And I’m so, so, sorry that I’m not the man you thought I was.”

Bernie’s touch sent tingles through Serena. “Me too,” Serena whispered.


	8. Chapter 8

Serena woke early. Tired after a restless night but unable to get back to sleep, she slipped out of bed and into a loose robe. Seeing as she was up, she might as well check on Bernie. They hadn’t spoken much after _that_ conversation last night, as Serena mentally thought of it. She’d taken Bernie up some soup for dinner but left her quickly. Now she knocked briefly on the door between their rooms and headed through. She stopped short as she noted the bright flush on Bernie’s cheeks and the sweat that plastered her hair to her forehead.

“Bernie?” Serena perched next to her on the bed, took one clammy hand in her own. “Bernie, wake up.” Bernie’s head tossed on her pillow and she muttered something nonsensical. “Come on Bernie,” Serena said, clutching the other woman’s hand tightly. “Please.” But Bernie’s eyes remained firmly shut.

Serena bit her lip, fought down the rising bubble of panic. Water, she needed water to cool her down. She pressed her lips to Bernie’s damp hair, then, heedless of her unclothed state, she ran into her own room, out and down the stairs. It was too early for Jasmine to have fetched any water in so she grabbed a jug from the kitchen, drew a bucket from the well herself. The physical act of turning the rough handle helped calm her and she was feeling steadier when she poured the water from the bucket to the jug.

In the hall, she almost ran into Jac.

“Mistress Campbell,” Jac said, eyeing her dishevelled state with interest. “Is it the Captain?” she asked, jumping immediately to the correct conclusion.

Serena sagged. “S- He’s running a temperature.” Then she straightened. “Why are you here?”

“You didn’t think I’d go home when my patients needed me? I’ve been seeing Henrik about today’s menu.”

Serena’s jaw dropped open. The calm assurance with which Jac took charge was sometimes unbelievable.

“I think I’d better see Captain Wolfe, don’t you?” Jac continued.

Serena hugged the jug tightly. “You can’t,” she said.

“Yes yes, I know. He doesn’t want anybody treating him but you. I’m sure he’ll be very grateful that you kept your word. Of course, he may well also be dead.” Tears sprang into Serena’s eyes. “For goodness sake,” Jac said.

“It’s not that simple,” Serena said hoarsely. “I can’t, Jac. I can’t.”

Perhaps it was the use of her first name but Jac softened, drew Serena onto the settle by the door. “Would it help if I promised to keep whatever it is that is going on a secret?”

“You would?”

“I honestly don’t care what is going on,” Jac said, “What I care about is men not dying needlessly.”

Serena’s grip on the jug was so tight her knuckles were white. “Okay,” she said.

“I’ll get my supplies and I’ll be with you in two minutes.”

 

Serena opened Bernie’s door at Jac’s knock. Bernie was looking no better, occasionally her eyes flickered open, bloodshot and dancing, and her hair was tangled and damp as she stirred on the bed.

“Let’s see him then,” Jac said, stepping past Serena into the room.

Serena caught her wrist. “Wait, just a minute.” She pushed the door shut and faced Jac. “Captain Wolfe. He isn’t...” The words stuck in her throat and she looked pleadingly at Jac. “He’s not a _man_.”

Jac’s eyebrows shot up. “Right. I see.” She glanced over at Bernie on the bed. “I’m impressed. You go and get dressed, I’ll see what I can do.”

Serena glanced down at herself. “Oh.”  She hesitated, not wanting to leave Bernie again, but Jac shook her head. “Nothing much will change in the time it takes you to dress.”

Serena let out a breath. “ Thank you.” She left the room by the door Jac had come in – trust her she might but there were some things that Jac didn’t need to know about –  and bumped straight into Raf.

“My lady,” he began.

“Just call me Serena,” Serena interrupted, “Everyone else is.”

“Thank you, uh, is Captain Wolfe seriously injured? He vanished yesterday and I was so worried about Dom that I forgot to ask.”

Serena moved slightly so that she was blocking the door more effectively. “H e’s got a deep cut across his shoulder  and chest. I looked after it yesterday but he’s feverish today. Mistress Naylor is with him now.”

Raf looked at her carefully and she kept her face as blank as he could. Then he glanced around at the empty stairs and hall and took a half step towards her. “We know, Dom and I. About the Captain.”

Serena blinked. “What do you mean?” she hedged.

Raf smiled slightly. “He’s been our Captain for years. You can’t spend that long with somebody, spending far too much time sleeping rough, and not figure things out eventually.”

“Does – does Bernie know you know?”

Raf shook his head. “Never seemed any reason to let on.”

“And you’re okay with – with the situation? With Bernie being your captain?”

“He’s never given us any reason not to be – he’s incredibly good at his job, the men love him. We’d follow him anywhere,” Raf’s lips quirked, “Even into battle.”

“I see,” Serena murmured. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get dressed.”

“Oh!” Raf took a step back and glanced at her, as if realising for the first time how she was clothed. “I beg your pardon.”

 

S erena changed as quickly as she could, fought the laces on her  gown , which seemed to tangle more than usual  beneath her unsure fingers . Then she headed down the corridor to the little room that Morven and Jasmine shared. Jasmine was up when she knocked, Morven still sleepy in bed, blinking at her blearily.

“I’d like you to supervise the children at breakfast,” Serena said to Morven. “I won’t be there. And keep them occupied until Master Levy arrives for their lessons.” Morven nodded and Serena left without worrying about explaining further.

 

“You did a good job,” Jac said, grudgingly, as Serena closed Bernie’s bedroom door behind her. She’d stripped the covers from Bernie’s bed, re-dressed the wound and was holding a damp cloth to Bernie’s forehead. Bernie seemed to be lying more quietly.

“How is she?” Serena knelt by the side of the bed, took one of Bernie’s hands in her own.

“The wound is inflamed but not infected. You need to concentrate on the fever first and then once she’s through that, re-dress the wound daily.” She passed the cloth to Serena. “You carry on now, I’ve got others to see to.” Serena nodded and Jac gathered her things and headed to the door. 

“Thank you,” Serena said, as Jac reached the door.

Jac flashed her a small smile. “It’s no problem. I hope I get the chance to know her better,”

“So do I,” Serena whispered as the door closed. 

“S’rena,” Bernie mumbled. 

Serena  found Bernie’s hand, hot and sticky, pressed it reassuringly and reapplied the cloth to her forehead. “I’m here,” she said softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Th rough the long morning, Serena stayed by Bernie’s side. Watched, helplessly, as  the fever rose and Bernie tossed and turned, eyes bright and unseeing. Listened to the broken snippets of her life that Bernie seemed to be reliving. 

When Bernie cried out with anguish for her brother, Serena couldn’t stand it any longer. She climbed up onto the bed, pulled Bernie in close. “I’ve got you,” she whispered as she smoothed back Bernie’s hair, “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Bernie struggled in her arms for a moment, then relaxed. “Serena.” Her voice was so quiet Serena could barely hear her. “Love you.”

Serena’s heart clenched. “Don’t you dare die on me, Bernie.  You get well and tell me that properly, please.” She wetted the cloth again, pressed it once again to Bernie’s forehead. She no longer cared that Bernie was a woman. It no longer seemed confusing. Bernie was a woman and  Serena loved her  and that was all that mattered.

 

Serena stayed with Bernie all afternoon too. At some point Bernie clenched her fingers around Serena’s dress, clutching onto her as though Serena was tethering her to safety. Serena didn’t move after that, grew stiff from hours of sitting still at Bernie’s side but Bernie was getting better and that made it all worthwhile. 

The setting sun was casting a fiery glow through the windows and Bernie gave a little murmur and a wriggle and her fingers dropped away from Serena. Serena stretched, arched her back and heard it click and then glanced down at Bernie’s face. She was sleeping, finally, and there was a little smile on her lips. Serena brushed her hair back from her forehead, feeling the coolness under her fingers, and relaxed. Bernie was going to be okay. “Darling,” she whispered and bent down to press a kiss to her forehead. Bernie sighed, a little happy sound and Serena dashed away the tear that rolled unbidden from her eye, tipped her head back and laughed.


	9. Chapter 9

“Serena.”

Serena jerked awake, muscles protesting at the awkward position she had slept in, and looked at Bernie, who was blinking in the early morning sun, blonde hair tousled. “Bernie. How are you feeling?”

“Was I ill?” Bernie frowned at her as she stood up from her chair, stretched with a wince. “Did you sleep there?”

“You had a bad fever yesterday,” Serena sat carefully on the edge of Bernie’s bed, looked down at her sun-kissed arms, brown against the white sheets, “I didn’t want to leave you over night in case it came back.” She clasped Bernie’s hand, raised it to her lips and kissed it softly.

“Serena,” Bernie murmured, “Look at me.” Serena lifted her eyes slowly, met Bernie’s warm dark gaze, couldn’t look away as Bernie’s face lit with deep joy. “Do you?”

Serena placed her hand carefully on the bed, moved instead to brush back the blonde curls, cupped Bernie’s face and stroked her cheek. Slowly, she leant down until Bernie was a bare whisper away from her. “I do.”

Bernie’s lips were just as soft as she remembered. She let the kiss linger and then Bernie whimpered, with her good arm pulled her closer still and Serena nibbled her lip gently, opened her mouth at the delicate touch of Bernie’s tongue.

When finally Serena’s back protested and she pulled regretfully away, Bernie smiled at her beatifically. “I should have got myself injured ages ago.”

Serena twined her fingers into one of Bernie’s ringlets. “Don’t joke about it, please.  You scared me yesterday. ”

Bernie turned her head to brush a kiss against Serena’s fingers.  “ I’m sorry. Thank you for looking after me.”  She tried to sit up and winced. “Ouch. I hope I mend fast.” 

“I’m happy to look after you, Bernie.”

Bernie caught Serena’s hand, brought it to her mouth and kissed her palm slowly and delicately. “I don’t doubt that, but there are so many things I’m looking forward to trying with you.”

Serena swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “What sort of things?” she stuttered.

Bernie kept her eyes locked firmly on Serena’s as she nibbled delicately at the pulse point of her wrist and Serena could barely breathe. “Imagine,” she said.

 

“Aunty Serena! Where were you yesterday?” Jason frowned at her over breakfast.

“I was looking after Captain Wolfe,” Serena said as she helped the children to slices of bread, “He had a fever.”

“I didn’t like you not being here.”

Elinor rolled her eyes. “You’re so boring, Jason. We had a good day  after our lessons . Raf took us out for a ride on his horse and Mistress Naylor let us help give the soldiers dinner.”

“Raf took you on his horse?”

“Jason was upset and Raf thought it would cheer him up. I was going to ask you,” Elinor said, in a self satisfied tone, “But Mistress Naylor said we mustn’t disturb you. We had fun! I only fell off once.”

“You fell off?” Elinor had had her own pony once, an old little thing, much smaller than the tall black horse that Raf owned. But there didn’t appear to be any outward sign of damage to her daughter.

“ _I_ didn’t fall off.” Jason said smugly.

Elinor stuck her tongue out at  him and Serena bit back a burst of bewildered laughter.

“Can I play chess with Captain Bernie again today?”

“Well, we’ll see. It’ll take his wound a while to heal and he might not want to entertain little boys.”

“I’m not little,” Jason protested. “Will you ask him, please?”

“I’ll ask,” Serena promised, then glanced at the clock, “Oh, we’re late. Master Levy will be here shortly. Come on you two, less chatting more eating.”

 

Serena put the breakfast tray on the table and helped Bernie sit up.

“Thanks.” Bernie helped herself awkwardly to a piece of bread and tucked in hungrily. 

Serena watched her for a  moment , noted  the shadow of pain in her eyes as she tried to move her arm. “You need a sling, I should have thought of  it before.” She opened the linen box and retrieved another sheet, felt Bernie’s eyes on her as she cut it to size. “Here.”  She slipped the cloth around Bernie’s back, leaning in close, felt Bernie’s breath tickle her neck. 

“This is nice,” Bernie murmured.

Serena lifted Bernie’s arm carefully, tied the sling neatly so that it supported her arm. “I need to tell you something,” she said as she stepped regretfully away from her and sat in the chair.

A hint of puzzlement crossed Bernie’s face. “Go on,” she said as Serena twisted her fingers together.

“Yesterday, when you were really sick, I was scared, and I – I asked Mistress Naylor for help. She knows about you, Bernie.”

“Right.” Bernie breathed out deeply. She traced the line of her wound, fingers clenching slightly into her shirt when she reached the bottom of it.

“Talk to me?” Serena urged when the silence had stretched on.

“Is _she_ likely to? Talk?”

Serena shook her head. “No. She said she wouldn’t and I trust her. Bernie, if you’d died because of my mediocre skills when Jac was there and I hadn’t let her help I would never have forgiven myself.”

“I – understand. Come here,” Bernie beckoned Serena to the bed, shuffled over to make space for her. Serena sat down and Bernie leant into her. “You’re ever so comfortable.” She paused for a moment, tangled her fingers with Serena’s and clasped them firmly as if for support. “The day we met, you asked for assurances about the safety of the women in your household, do you remember?”

“Vividly.”

“I’ve always been strict with my men, much stricter than other companies are. I’ve always wondered, at the back of my mind, what might happen to me if I was found out. It’s dangerous, Serena, living around men who are so starved of companionship, and all it would take is one little slip and there I am – a woman, surrounded by men and so vulnerable.”

“Then why do it? Why spend so long pretending? And fighting – it’s dangerous!”

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” Bernie snorted a laugh, then sighed. “I had a brother, he was older than me. I followed him everywhere and he didn’t mind having a little shadow. He taught me all the things he learnt; fighting, shooting, reading, writing. He was a staunch Royalist, hated what parliament were trying to do to our King. And then he died,” Bernie’s voice grew softer, “Of a silly little cold that turned to pneumonia. When King Charles raised his standard I decided to fight for what he would have done but couldn’t, and since that day, when I first put on breeches and took his sword, I’ve never let my guard down. Until you,” She raised Serena’s hand to her mouth and kissed it, lips lingering, “My sweet, unexpected, puritan.”

“Not such a good puritan,” Serena murmured, trying to suppress the shiver that ran through her at Bernie’s kiss. “I never was, really. When I was young all I wanted was to wear bright colours and to dance, longed to go out and have fun instead of sitting at home memorising bible verses. My father was never impressed with me, however hard I tried, and when Edward asked for my hand, he was only too happy to give it. Of course Edward was hiding a serious drinking problem behind his godly exterior. It was something,” she said, reminiscently, “To be lectured on sobriety in the morning and have to haul Edward upstairs when he’d passed out from drinking in the evening. That was on a good day, of course.” She shivered for a very different reason as she recalled the many occasions when he hadn’t passed out.

“I’m sorry,” Bernie whispered.

Serena smiled at her. “All over now. And I did get Elinor out of it, at least. Did you ever want to marry? Have children?”

“Can’t say I ever thought much of the idea, having a man ordering me around. And,” Bernie blushed slightly, “I know that I probably wouldn’t have been able to marry for love but I never found a man even slightly attractive. There were a few women, on the other hand...” She raised Serena’s hand and kissed it again. Looked up at Serena with a grin. “I can’t move, you’re going to have to work with me here.”

“I will, will I?” Serena raised an eyebrow superciliously then chuckled and gave in. “Tell me if I’m hurting you,” she said as she moved to kneel close beside Bernie, before leaning in to kiss her.

Bernie’s lips parted under hers and Serena wondered what she would taste like, slipped her tongue in between to find out. Bernie shuddered underneath her, reached an arm around Serena’s waist to hold her close and Serena climbed carefully over her so she was straddling her, deepened the kiss, braced herself with one arm against the headboard so that she could trace Bernie’s collarbone with her other hand. She could feel Bernie’s pulse racing and desire flooded through her. “Touch me,” she gasped as she pulled her lips briefly away from Bernie’s.

Bernie ran her hand up Serena’s dress from waist to chest, cupped a breast and squeezed firmly.

“Oh _god_ ,” Serena mumbled into Bernie’s mouth.

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain?” Bernie’s voice was quiet and amused.

“I told you I was a bad puritan.”

There was silence in the room for a little while after that, only broken by the occasional hum of satisfaction. Then Bernie groaned, a sound of pain, not pleasure, and Serena moved off her quickly.

“Bernie, I’m sorry!”

Bernie closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Maybe a bit much too soon. Ow.”

“The dressing needs to be changed this morning. Shall I ask Jac to come up?”

“I’m sure you can do a good job on it. I trust you, Serena.”

Serena blushed. “It’s not that. It’s – um – undressing you. I might be – distracted.”

“Oh really?” Bernie grinned. “Well, by all means, ask Mistress Naylor. And I should probably speak to Raf too. If you’ll help me bandage up.” She gestured at her chest.

Serena hesitated for a second, but then it wasn’t her place to reveal that Raf and Dom knew. “Okay,” she said. “You know I had to cut your old bandage off you?”

“There are more in the cupboard.”

Serena slipped off the bed and tripped over a shirt. “You know, now that you’re getting better maybe we could discuss the state of this room.”

“And that’s another reason I would have made a bad wife,” Bernie peered over the edge of the bed, “Are you alright?”

 

Serena shut Bernie’s door behind her. She could hear the faint murmur of voices in the room where Elinor and Jason had their lessons, a sign that, happily, they weren’t arguing for a change. As she walked down the stairs she heard more quiet voices in the hall and she stopped abruptly as she saw Fletch and Jac, heads close together, in a dark corner. As she watched, Fletch put his hand on Jac’s shoulder and she looked up at him with an expression that Serena had never seen on Jac’s face before. Suddenly she felt like she was intruding, purposefully thumped down the last two steps to alert them to her presence. They jumped apart as if she’d thrown scalding water at them.

“Mistress Naylor, would you mind looking at Captain Wolfe?” Serena said, taking pity on them after a moment of silence in which they’d both gaped at her.

Jac pulled herself together. “Certainly,” she said and headed straight for the stairs without so much as a glance back at Fletch.

Serena waited for her to be out of earshot. “Is there something I ought to know?” she asked, raising a querying eyebrow.

“No, my lady,” Fletch said, took a step and then stopped again, “At least, not yet.” He avoided her gaze, walked swiftly out of the hall into the bright autumn sun. Serena watched him go, wondering. It wouldn’t be a bad thing, for Fletch and Jac to get together. Fletch had been on his own for a long time and Mikey could do with a mother figure, although, Serena admitted to herself, she wasn’t sure how motherly a figure Jac would make. She definitely wouldn’t take any nonsense though and maybe that was exactly what Mikey needed.

 

She found Raf in the courtyard, drilling the slightly depleted company. She leant against the warm stone wall, watching as he put them through their paces. He didn’t have the command that Bernie had, that was clear, but it was still an orderly display. When she shifted position Raf spotted her, called them men to a halt and headed over.

“My lady,” he said, doffing his hat politely, “What can I do for you?”

“Captain Wolfe is doing better today and she-”

Raf’s eyes widened and he shook his head minutely. “Careful,” he hissed.

“He-,” Serena amended quickly, “He’d like to see you later. Mistress Naylor is with him at the moment, if you could go up after she’s finished that would be good.”

 

Serena hovered by the door while Bernie and Raf talked, unwilling to go further from Bernie than she had to. At length, Raf emerged, smiled brightly her and left. A sudden thought occurred to her as he reached the top of the stairs and she called out to him. “Raf, you’ll have dinner with us again tonight? And Dom, if he’s better?”

Raf laughed, “Dom’s well on the mend. We’d be delighted.”

Serena exchanged smiles with him then rapped smartly on Bernie’s door. “It’s me,” she said as she went in. “How’s the shoulder doing?”

“Mistress Naylor was reassuring,” Bernie said, “If somewhat brusque. She was very firm that I should stay in bed for the next week so I’ve given Raf a lot of instructions. Would you help me take the binding off?” She tugged at her shirt, “It’s not very comfortable.”

“Of course.” Serena climbed onto the bed, helped Bernie slip her good arm out of the shirt and then pulled it over her head before carefully unlacing the binding that Bernie wore under it. She placed it neatly at the end of the bed as Bernie sighed with relief and then, for the first time, she allowed her eyes to wander properly over Bernie’s body without feeling guilty about it. Her stomach was firm, taut, with none of the soft roundness of Serena’s, and it was startlingly white in comparison to her arms and face.

Bernie laughed softly and Serena looked up to meet her amused expression. “The tan is thanks to all the work I did getting your harvest in, and of course I couldn’t exactly take my shirt off like the men did.”

“You feel so strong,” Serena murmured, stroking her hand down Bernie’s arm, feeling the muscles usually hidden by her shirt.

“Wait until I’m all mended and I’ll show you how strong I am. Hours of pitching hay will be entirely worthwhile.” Bernie grinned at the blush that spread over Serena’s face. “Come here.” She pulled Serena carefully closer and kissed her. “Something to tide us over,” Bernie said when she drew reluctantly away after a moment.

Serena opened her eyes slowly, relishing the memory of Bernie’s lips on hers. “I do hope you mend quickly.”

“Me too. In the meantime, how about a chess lesson?”

“I don’t know how you expect me to learn anything when you’re sitting there looking like that,” Serena grumbled, but nevertheless she stood up to move the chess table closer to Bernie’s bed. “Oh, while I remember, Jason asked if you would resume playing chess with him tonight? Please don’t feel obliged,” she added hastily.

“But I’d be happy to.” Bernie set out the pieces neatly. “He’s a nice lad and it’s good to have some mental challenge.”

“I’ll try not to take offence at that.”

 

That night, Dom and Raf appeared at dinner, entertained Elinor as they had always done and afterwards Serena and the children retired to Bernie’s chamber – hastily tidied earlier by Serena – and Serena settled down to read Elinor a book while Bernie and Jason resumed their competition.

As the chamber grew darker and the flickering candles cast more of a shadow, Serena glanced up from her book to meet Bernie’s eyes. They smiled at each other and Serena thought how utterly perfect this was, this quiet family time with all the promise of many happy days to come.


	10. Chapter 10

Serena slipped through the hidden door into Bernie’s room to find Bernie flexing her arm, prodding her chest thoughtfully.

“Are the children in bed?”

“In bed and quiet,” Serena said with satisfaction, “And the rest of the evening is ours. What are you up to?”

Bernie jumped off the bed and caught Serena’s hands. “I’m mended, I think. I’ll have to be a bit careful of it, but...” She kissed Serena’s hands then pulled her closer, tucked a dark strand behind Serena’s ear, “What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Serena’s heart hammered. She’d wanted this for so long but now the moment had arrived her thoughts turned to Edward and the quick, uncomfortable coupling which had left her feeling empty and used. But Bernie was nothing like Edward, even the care in her eyes now proved that.

“We don’t have to, Serena. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not happy with.”

Serena took a deep breath. “I’m nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before, it was never – never good with Edward.”

“Do you want to?”

Serena leant into Bernie, rested her head against her shoulder, felt the thrumming of her heart through her shirt. “Oh, Bernie, I want to.”

“Then I’ll look after you. I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

Serena straightened, met Bernie’s lips. “I trust you,” she whispered. Bernie’s body was strong and supple against hers and she slipped her fingers under her shirt, remembering vividly their first kiss, the first time she had touched Bernie there and how Bernie had fled.

“I’m not going anywhere this time,” Bernie assured her, mind apparently on the same path. She tugged at the laces on Serena’s dress, growled with frustration as she made no progress. “Did you lace this extra tight this morning?”

“You’ve been wearing breeches too long.” Serena unlaced the said clothing quickly, slid careful fingers under the cloth to explore Bernie’s hip.

Bernie sighed against her, hands moving from the annoying laces to steady herself on Serena’s shoulders. “I thought you were nervous.”

“So did I.” Serena laughed, kissed Bernie as she pushed her breeches down her long, slim legs.

“You’ll have to give me a moment with your dress,” Bernie said as she kicked her breeches off. Serena watched them fly half way across the room but Bernie turned her head back gently. “Now is not the time for a lesson in tidying up after myself. Now, are you going to let me do this?”

“You’re being very commanding for somebody who’s wearing nothing but a shirt.”

“Do you want the dress off or not?”

Serena pouted then subsided with a smile. “Why don’t you let me?” She pushed Bernie back onto the bed and Bernie gazed at her, mouth half open, as she unlaced her gown with fingers that barely trembled. She pushed the gown from her shoulders, shimmied it down her body and stepped out of it, layers of petticoats and her lace cap following suit. A twinge of nerves shot through her as she faced Bernie but Bernie’s gaze was dark with desire and she pulled Serena to the bed.

“You’re gorgeous,” she said hoarsely, “I mean, you always have been, but – _oh.”_

“And you’re overdressed.”

Bernie pulled off her shirt in one beautifully fluid movement and Serena undid the lacings on her binding, let it fall off her body. She traced the dark pink scar with one delicate finger. “All healed.”

Bernie opened her mouth but whatever she might have said was lost as Serena pressed her mouth to the scar, marked its length with her tongue.

“Oh,” Bernie mumbled again, hands falling to Serena’s bare shoulders to steady herself.

“All right there, Captain?” Serena asked wickedly as she lifted her head to meet Bernie’s eyes. She pushed Bernie back gently onto the pillows, moved over her to kiss her.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven. You’re killing me, Serena.”

“What a waste that would be.”

With a laugh Bernie flipped them over, propped herself up on an elbow, held Serena’s gaze as she trailed her fingers slowly down her body, exploring every soft inch of skin.

By the time Bernie’s fingers reached the top of her thighs Serena was writhing with need.

“Bernie!” Serena groaned, “Will you – _please.”_

Bernie smiled, kissed Serena again as she responded to the plea and Serena clung onto her strong shoulders as she gave herself over to utter pleasure. 

* * *

“Thank you so much for coming,” Serena said to Guy Self as she walked him to the door after the lunch that he had unexpectedly arrived for, wishing for the hundredth time that he hadn’t. She shivered; the hall was cold after the warmth of the dining hall.

Guy came to a halt. “I came because I wanted to ask you something – delicate.” He drew her to the side of hall, laid a heavy hand on her sleeve.

Serena stared down at it, resisting the urge to throw him off, then realised she’d missed what he was saying entirely. “What?” she blurted out.

“Marry me,” he said again with exaggerated patience.

“Marry you?” she squeaked. “What? No!”

“You don’t mean that.” He moved into her space and she backed away from him until the panelled wall stopped her abruptly. His face was so close to hers that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Come on Serena. You’re too pretty a thing to be in a cold bed every night. I could keep you warm, give you a good life, maybe have some more children.”

He tilted her chin up and she fought down panic. “Please let me go. You’re drunk.”

“Not so drunk,” he chuckled, “I could show you a good time.”

His mouth was nearly on hers. She tried to scream but no sound would come out. His lips were only a hair away from hers when, suddenly, miraculously, he was pushed away from her.

“I believe Lady Campbell asked you to let her go.” Bernie’s voice was quiet and steadily furious. Serena sank back against the wall, hand pressed to her thudding heart, as Guy turned and sneered at Bernie.

“Oh, I see why she doesn’t want me. Are you keeping her company at night? Bedding the enemy? Is she a good lay?”

Bernie’s fist moved in a blur and he was falling backwards, clutching a bloody nose.

“Go,” Bernie said, pulled open the door and shoved him through, closing it with a resounding thud behind him. Then she turned with anxious eyes. “Serena? Are you alright?” She pulled Serena close and Serena rested her head against Bernie’s shoulder, let comforting arms hold her tight.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I couldn’t get away.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“Only scared me. Thanks to you.”

“Look at me.” Serena raised her eyes and Bernie scanned her face carefully, brushed her cheek with a gentle thumb. “I had a suspicion. I wish I’d followed you sooner. Shall I take you upstairs? Morven!” she called and that young lady appeared, “Bring some wine to my lady’s chamber.”

Morven dipped a curtsey and Serena let Bernie lead her upstairs. Morven arrived shortly after, bearing wine and glasses. Bernie smiled a dismissal at her and poured out the wine, handed one to Serena, ushered her into a chair by the fire and threw an extra log onto the smouldering embers.

Serena picked up her glass with an unsteady hand and drank deeply. “It should have occurred to me, I suppose, that now I’m a widow I might have men chasing me. I feel – vulnerable.” She shivered suddenly and Bernie covered her hand sympathetically.

“I’m here. I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

Serena looked at Bernie, the very image of a dashing Cavalier, and smiled a little. “A pity we can’t get married.”

“Yes.”

Serena found her attention momentarily caught by a drop of red wine that traced down Bernie’s lip, watched as Bernie’s tongue flickered out to save it. She blushed when she realised Bernie had noticed her gaze, but Bernie slipped out of her chair, crossed the chamber quickly and closed the bolt on the door, then gently removed Serena’s wine glass from her grasp and placed it on the table. “We can enjoy other activities though.”

“You’re trying to distract me,” Serena murmured as Bernie nibbled her neck.

Bernie pulled the cap from Serena’s head and ran her fingers through her hair, even as her other hand tugged at the laces on her dress. “Is it working?”

“Oh yes.”

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Bernie said as Serena stretched luxuriously in her arms, “About Christmas.”

Serena blinked up at her, savoured the long expanse of her body, trailed her fingers delicately down her neck, along the raised edge of the scar, around one pink nipple, watched it stiffen under her touch.

“You’re insatiable,” Bernie murmured.

“You’re the one who got me into bed in the middle of the day.” She traced a line down Bernie’s body, over her hips, slipped down to the soft hair between her legs.

Bernie groaned and caught her hand. “Wait a moment. Can we talk about Christmas? How do you usually celebrate?”

Serena stilled. “We don’t, really, apart from a special meal. Puritan, remember?”

“Oh.”

Bernie stared at her for a moment, but Serena smiled and removed her hand carefully from Bernie’s grasp. “That’s not to say,” her fingers found damp heat and Bernie’s breath caught, “That we can’t this year.” Bernie was soft and slick and inviting and Serena curled her fingers inside her. “After all, we’ve done a lot of new things this year. Tell me about your Christmases, Bernie, how do you usually celebrate?”

“I – um,” Bernie faltered as Serena twisted her fingers.

“Tell me,” Serena insisted. She watched the flush grow on Bernie’s chest, enjoying the way that Bernie tipped her head back, struggled to speak evenly as Serena worked her closer to the precipice.

She barely listened to the words that Bernie gasped out, until finally she took pity, pressed her thumb against Bernie’s clit and Bernie clenched around her fingers, gasping her name.

“Well done darling.” She withdrew her fingers and wiped them on the sheet before kissing Bernie delicately on the lips.

Bernie lay back weakly against the pillow, arm flung over her eyes. “I’ve made a monster,” she groaned.

“You’ll have to tell me about Christmas celebrations again, I’m afraid I wasn’t paying any attention.”

“Serena!” Bernie rolled over, pinned Serena beneath her. “We can have a yule log, and a lord of misrule, and mistletoe, eat mince pies, go wassailing...” She punctuated her list with kisses.

“Bernie, Bernie, that’s enough.” Serena squirmed under her, arching her back to press herself against Bernie’s lithe body, “You’re in charge of the celebrations. Now please -”

“Is this what you want?” Bernie asked as her lips trailed down Serena’s body.

“Yes!” 

* * *

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold and Serena savoured waking up in Bernie’s arms. “Happy Christmas,” she murmured and planted a soft kiss on Bernie’s lips.

“Happy Christmas.” Bernie wriggled out of Serena’s arms, ignoring her pout, climbed out of bed and headed to her wardrobe.

“Is this my present?” Serena propped herself up on her elbows to appreciate Bernie’s naked body.

Bernie smiled at her as she opened the wardrobe door. “No, but I’m glad you like the view. Actually, this is what I got you.” She fished inside and drew out a beautiful gown, deep red with a low cut bodice and full sleeves. “Do you – do you like it?” she asked uncertainly as Serena gaped. “I took your measurements into the dressmaker so it should fit you, and if the neck is too low I’ve got a lace collar to cover it. You could wear it today, if you want?”

“Oh, Bernie.” Serena threw the bedcovers off and scrambled out of bed, ignoring the chill bite of cold air against her bare skin. She ran the cloth between her fingers, sighed at the feel of it. “I’ve never had anything so gorgeous. Of course I’ll wear it today, would you help me put it on?”

Bernie helped her carefully into it, then twisted her gently to lace up the back. “You’ll need help with it, but I thought Morven could, usually.”

“I’d rather you did it.” Serena hummed as Bernie’s knuckles grazed her spine and then Bernie pressed a kiss to her neck and she leant back with a groan.

“You’re so lovely,” Bernie whispered, giving up entirely on the laces to caress Serena’s neck.

“I thought you were going to help me dress?” Serena’s voice was faint.

“I’ve had a better idea.”

 

Elinor was dancing with excitement as she came downstairs, Jason following her more calmly but with a big smile on his face. Serena waited for them in the hall, her arm slung through Bernie’s and as she watched them she thought of the quiet, pious day that had been Christmas last year and how different everything was now – thanks to Bernie.

Bernie squeezed her arm. “Thoughts, my lady?”

Serena smiled at her. “Only good ones, I promise.”

“Well then, you two, shall we begin our festivities?” Bernie ushered the children into the hall which was already thronging with people; all the soldiers, naturally, and a number of the villagers. Mikey and some of the other village children had been out all morning finding greenery to adorn the room with and, together with the bright flames of the fire and the merry chatter, Serena had never seen the room seem so full of joy.

Bernie clapped her hands as she strode into the centre of the room. “Now, the first important job – our lord for the day, the lord of misrule -” she turned slowly until she spotted her target, “Mikey Fletcher! Mikey, over here please.” To shouts of laughter she crowned the boy with a twig wreath.

Mikey picked it off his head and twisted it in his hands with a satisfied smile. “What does that mean?” he asked.

“It means that we have to do whatever you say,” Bernie said with a grin, “So be merciful, please.” She pushed him up to the table on the dais, to the big chair in the middle and made a little bow. “My lord.”

Mikey sat down, his eyes full of mischief and gradually everybody else drifted to the long tables running the length of the hall. Serena moved towards the dais but Bernie grabbed her and shook her head.

“Not today, my lady. We’ll go over there.” She led Serena towards the edge of the hall and sat her down neatly next to Fletch and Jac. “Hello,” she said cheerily.

“Nice dress,” Jac remarked with a lift of her eyebrow.

“Thank you,” Serena murmured. She was all off balance here, but Bernie squeezed her knee reassuringly and then Henrik was bringing in the first course and she didn’t have time to feel out of place any more.

“Hasn’t he done well,” Bernie remarked with satisfaction as she speared a large hunk of meat.

“I’m impressed. It’s been such short rations the last few weeks I wasn’t sure we’d have much of a feast today.” She looked curiously at her plate. “Is this – venison?”

“Surprise.”

“Bernie, did you – it’s illegal! Are you insane?”

“Worth it though?”

“I suppose,” Serena rolled her eyes, then blushed as she looked across the table at the expression on Jac and Fletch’s faces.

 

“Happy?” Bernie queried as she closed Serena’s chamber door after a long, fun-filled day.

“More than. It’s been a perfect day, thank you. Here, my present to you.” Serena flung a smile over her shoulder as she fished an item out of her wardrobe. She turned triumphantly. “What do you think?”

“I think that’s the biggest hat I’ve ever seen.”

“Try it on?” Serena reached up and pulled it onto Bernie’s head and stepped back with a nod. “There, my handsome Captain.”

Bernie brushed the feather back out of her face. “Your captain, am I?”

Serena reached out, grabbed Bernie’s doublet to pull her close. “You know it.”

* * *

Serena looked up from her embroidery as Bernie pushed the door firmly closed behind her.

“Is everything okay?” Bernie’s hand was clenched around a piece of paper and there was a curious expression on her face.

“Not really.”

Serena threw her embroidery into her basket and patted the seat beside her. “Come and talk to me.”

Bernie sat down heavily, looked out of the window at the early spring flowers, then across to Serena. “Orders,” she said succinctly, passing the paper over to Serena.

Serena scanned it quickly, felt a heaviness grow in her chest. “You have to go.” Her voice hitched.

“Mmm,” Bernie said, “It had to happen eventually and we’ve been here much longer than I anticipated we would.” She looked away from Serena again, back out to the quiet garden.

“I don’t want you to go.” The words burst from Serena without conscious thought. “Bernie, I don’t want you to go.” Her fingers found Bernie’s, clung on to her as though she could physically keep her there.

Bernie peeled Serena’s hand gently from hers, put it back in her lap. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I – I have to go and talk to Raf.” She stood abruptly and walked swiftly to the door.  
“We’ll talk later, though?” Serena tried, failed, to keep desperation from colouring her voice.

Bernie stopped halfway out the door, looked at Serena with dark, sad eyes. “Later,” she agreed.

 

Later came when the children had gone to bed and Serena slipped into Bernie’s bed. “I’ll miss you,” she said as she traced a line down Bernie’s sternum, “Do you have to go?”

“You know I do. How could I not?”

“You could tell the truth. Tell them all you’re a woman, they wouldn’t let you fight then.”

A spark of mirth flickered in Bernie’s dark eyes. “Joan of Arc.”

“You’re not talking to angels, Bernie! And don’t you see, oh Bernie – she _died_. Edward died. So many men have died. And I – I,” her voice trailed off and she sniffed damply.

Bernie stroked a tear from her cheek. “I promise to do everything in my power not to be killed. But I am going, Serena. I have to.”

Serena swallowed, reached over to pull Bernie close. “Then, you should know – I love you, Bernie Wolfe, with all my heart.”

“And I love you,” Bernie whispered, kissing Serena’s forehead, “I love you, Serena.”

Their kiss was damp with tears. “How long do we have?” Serena asked, cupping Bernie’s cheek with her palm.

“Two days.” Bernie’s arms found Serena’s waist and Serena shifted a little to allow Bernie’s leg to slip between her own. “We should make the most of it.”

Bernie’s thigh pressed against her and Serena felt a roll of desire, squeeze Bernie’s breast through her thin night shirt, savouring the feel of her and quelling the thought that she might not get to do this many more times. “Yes,” she agreed as Bernie divested her of her nightdress.

* * *

Bernie buckled her sword at her hip, pulled on her hat so the feather sat at the jauntiest possible angle, and turned to face Serena. “How do I look?”

“My dashing Captain,” Serena said with a brave attempt at a smile. She tugged Bernie’s doublet a little neater. “One last kiss before we face the day?”

Bernie swept her into her arms, crushed her so tight that Serena could barely breathe but she didn’t care because Bernie’s lips were firm on hers, kissing her like she’d never kissed her before. Eventually Bernie stepped back, breathing heavily. “To remember me by.” She took Serena’s hand and tucked it into the crook of her arm. “Come on, Lady Campbell. Time to go.”

Serena’s grip was firm on Bernie’s arm as she led her downstairs and out into the courtyard. The household had assembled to say their farewells and they and the soldiers were mingling freely. Many friendships had been formed in the six months that they’d spent living together and Serena’s was far from being the only face damp with tears. As she watched Fletch and Raf embraced, and Jason ran up to throw himself into Bernie’s arms. Henrik presented Dom with a massive basket stuffed with food and Serena almost laughed as she watched Dom stagger with it to their supply cart. Elinor darted up to him as he stowed it, tugged him over to Raf, one final conversation for the three of them.

Even Jac had come to see the soldiers off. She moved among them, checking on all those she had treated, eventually arriving at the door where Bernie and Serena stood. Bernie pushed Jason gently away and for a few moments the three women were alone.

“Good luck,” Jac said. She held out a hand to Bernie. “You’re a braver person than I am. Look after yourself, Captain.”

“I will. Thank you for looking after me, Mistress Naylor.”

 Jac cleared her throat. “I’m glad I got the chance to know you. Shouldn’t you be getting off now?”

“The feeling is entirely mutual. And yes, we should.” Bernie caught Raf’s eye and nodded and swiftly the disorganised group formed into neat lines of soldiers, with the members of the household clustered around Serena by the porch. Bernie gave Serena's hand one quick, firm squeeze as Dom led her horse over, then stepped forward and swung herself into the saddle with an ease of movement that made Serena sigh.

Bernie urged her horse forward a few steps and Serena moved slowly to meet her in the open ground between house and soldiers. Bernie leant down from the saddle, offered her hand to Serena.

“Goodbye, my lady,” she said, “And thank you for everything.”

Serena clutched her hand, savouring for the final time the feel of Bernie’s skin against her own. “My pleasure, Captain,” and then, quieter, for their own ears only, she added, “Stay safe, Bernie.”

Only the knowledge that they were being watched by so many people could make Serena let go of Bernie’s hand. Bernie gave her one final soft smile and then swung her horse around, trotted to the front of the lines of men. “For the King!” she cried and waved her hat.

“For the King!” The soldiers echoed and then the drummer boy started his beat and the soldiers left the courtyard for the final time.

The household filtered slowly back to the tasks they had been doing until only Serena and the children were left, Serena with her eyes fixed on the top of Bernie’s hat, all that she could see of her, watching the feather wave as she headed down the lane. Eventually it vanished, the last soldier rounded the corner and the drum could be heard no more. They were gone.


	11. Chapter 11

Empty. Everything seemed empty. The stables, the room that had been Edward’s and then Bernie’s and now belonged to nobody, the table at dinner, her bed. For several, blissful months, Serena had been happy. She’d finally discovered what it meant to love somebody.

And now Bernie was gone and she was sleepwalking through her life.

The quantity of food Henrik provided at meals had increased substantially but Serena let the children eat most of it, picked over her own portion, managing to force down only a few small bites.

She knew Morven watched her with worried eyes but couldn’t bring herself to care.

Spring blossomed and she sat at her window, watched Arthur work in the garden but didn’t join him, always half-waiting to hear the shouts of the soldiers as they trooped into the yard. But everything was quiet. Always quiet.

* * *

It was late March when Serena woke abruptly as Jac Naylor pulled the covers rudely off her.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, grabbing the sheet as it disappeared.

“Up you get,” Jac said forcefully, then looked over her shoulder at the door, where Morven and Jasmine were hovering awkwardly, “I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

Serena sat up. “What’s going on?”

Jac opened her wardrobe, drew out a dress and threw it at her. “You’ve been moping for too long. She’s gone, you’re sad, now you’ve got to get on with life.”

Serena’s fingers clenched in the dress. “Jac – I love her.”

“And does lying about feeling sorry for yourself make you miss her less?”

“You’re not surprised.”

“Not particularly. Anybody who spent any time around the two of you could tell.”

“They could?”

Jac rolled her eyes. “Get up Serena. Get dressed, have some breakfast and then we’ll find you a project.”

“I’m fed up of embroidery.”

“I’m sure there must be something more challenging you can do on this manor of yours.”

Serena climbed wearily out of bed, drew on her dress and laced it up. Even laced as tight as she could make it, it hung loosely and Jac frowned as she looked at her.

“There is something,” Serena said as she bent to put her shoes on. “The dower house. It’s officially mine but it’s half falling down.”  
“Excellent, that’ll do nicely. Now, lets get you plenty of breakfast, you need to fatten up.”

Serena smothered a laugh and then she realised with a shock that apart from missing Bernie as her lover she was missing her as an equal, missing the fact that there was somebody in the house who didn’t treat her with deference or as a parent. Jac was emphatically _not_ supposed to be her equal but that had never stopped her from treating her like one. “Thank you,” she said genuinely and Jac treated her to a rare smile.

 

Under Jac’s firm gaze Serena managed to choke down slightly more breakfast than she’d managed recently. Elinor and Jason squabbled over a bread roll, subsided when Jac glared at them. They were missing Bernie, Raf and Dom as much as Serena was and Serena’s attention split between them was no substitute for the undivided attention they’d had from the officers; their behaviour was slowly slipping back to the days of endless arguing.

“Don’t you two have lessons?” Jac demanded eventually, and they left slowly, arguing about something utterly trivial. “And you,” she continued when they’d gone and it was just her and Serena sitting at opposite sides of the table, “Are going to walk down to that house and see what needs doing.”

Serena bit her lip for a second, considering whether she should be cross about being ordered around like this, then decided it probably wasn’t worth it. “Fine. Are you coming with me?”

Jac shook her head. “I’ve got work of my own to do. Oh, and I’ve decided to train Jasmine up. She’s showed a lot of potential and it’s wasted here.”

Serena wondered whether she got to have an opinion, indeed, if Jac would listen to an opinion. “Does Jasmine know?”

Jac looked at her like she was an idiot. “Yes, and I’ve cleared it with Fletch and Morven too.”

“Right.” Serena stood up and brushed a couple of crumbs from her skirt. “Let’s get on then.”

 

Standing in the middle of the hall, Serena turned in a slow circle, surveying the building. It wasn’t quite as awful as she remembered. There was a hole in the roof and everything was covered by a layer of dirt and dust, but it seemed generally sound. Very old fashioned of course; at one end of the hall was a door to the kitchen, a small pantry next door and then a small staircase that led to the two bedrooms above. The whole thing could have fitted in the manor house several times over. Nevertheless, once it had been cleaned and patched up and she’d sorted out some furniture and hangings to brighten the walls, it might be quite pleasant. In her mind she imagined it would be a place for Jason to live when he was old enough to live on his own. Elinor would, she assumed, at some point get married and go to live with her husband and therefore didn’t need to be worried about.

There was an almost intact broom lurking in the pantry and Serena, seized by a sudden desire for productive activity, grabbed it and started sweeping out the hall. It was only when the floor was almost clean that she realised that she’d successfully not thought about Bernie for a whole hour.

* * *

In renovating the dower house, Serena found herself a small amount of purpose, enough to keep herself interested in life. Under Jac’s approving eyes her gowns became tight again and she regained some colour.

Finally, in May, the house seemed almost complete. She stood in the hall looking with approval at the bright white-washed walls, at the plain but serviceable furniture she’d bought and the bright coloured tapestries hung around to provide colour. One bedroom now had a bed and Serena thought that maybe one night she would stay out here, see what it was like sleeping on her own in peace and quiet.

* * *

It was the sixteenth of June when Elinor came running out of her morning lessons, shrieking. Serena, busy arranging some flowers in the hall, caught her as she ran past.

“Elinor! What’s wrong?”

Stopped in her headlong flight, Elinor slumped to the floor. “Master Levy,” she choked out, “Said… battle…”

Serena pulled Elinor into her arms, stroked her back as she heaved with sobs. “What happened?”

“They lost.”

No need to ask who _they_ was. A cold dread settled in Serena’s heart. “Up you get, sweetheart. Go to the kitchens and ask Henrik for a drink. I – I need to go and talk to Sacha.”

Her footsteps were heavy as she climbed the stairs. She’d know if Bernie was dead, wouldn’t she? Surely, she’d have felt something, somehow.

She tapped on the door to the classroom and slipped through. Jason was sitting at the table, fingers clenched around his workbook, looking as awful as Elinor had.

“Master Levy, Sacha,” Serena said, lowering herself into Elinor’s abandoned chair, “Elinor said, there was a battle?”

She’d always liked Sacha; he was warm and comforting and his whole demeanour was reassuring. But right now he was none of those things.

“I heard the news in town,” he said hesitantly. “There was a big engagement two days ago, at a place called Naseby.”

“What happened?”

He looked away from her. “The royalist army was all but destroyed. Some cavalry escaped but the infantry were all killed or taken prisoner.”

“Captain Bernie was with the infantry,” Jason said.

“ _Thank you,_ Jason.” Serena looked at Sacha. “But, Captain Wolfe might not have been there? He might have been involved elsewhere.”

“It’s possible,” he agreed.

Serena pressed her hands to her eyes. Bernie might not have been there, she might not now be lying dead on a field or in an impossible situation as a prisoner. She might not. Serena took a shuddering breath. “Then we have to hope, until we hear otherwise, that Captain Wolfe and the others are all okay.”

She left the room slowly, trailed down the stairs and out into the bright sunlight. She stared down the drive, her minds eye conjuring the image of Bernie as she had first seen her, sitting tall on her horse, an enemy come to occupy and frighten. They’d been standing here that day that Bernie had offered her soldiers to help with the harvest, taken her hand and held it for too long.

She crossed the drive to the garden, turned to look up at the house, at her window. She’d been sitting there when Bernie had come to offer condolences on Edward’s death, when they’d kissed for the first time. She turned back to the garden, let her fingers brush the flowers as she passed them. They hadn’t been often in the garden but even here she could see Bernie’s dancing eyes as she questioned Serena on the uses of various herbs and the heat of her look when they’d been alone and she’d pressed a swift kiss to Serena’s mouth.

Serena touched her fingers to her mouth, feeling the ghost of Bernie’s kiss.

“She _can’t_ be dead!” she cried to the empty sky.

 

Dinner that night was quiet. Serena had told Morven the news and it had passed around the household swiftly. Elinor’s face was blotchy with the tears that she’d shed all day and Jason had sat there with a puzzled look on his face, clearly thinking things over to himself.

Serena reached for the wine jug, poured herself a large glass and was about to take a sip when she realised that if she started she wouldn’t be able to stop, settled instead for the watered-down ale that the children were drinking.

“Straight to bed tonight,” she said at the end of a meal during which nobody had spoken.

“But mother,” Elinor protested.

Serena raised a quelling eyebrow. “No arguing.” The children trailed off slowly and Serena followed them, up to her room and then, slowly, through the secret door into the room that had been Bernie’s. She lay down slowly on the bed, remembering her shock at discovering Bernie was a woman and then, later, the joy and passion they’d found together.

She turned over, buried her face in the pillow that no longer smelt of Bernie, and wept.

 

Serena didn’t sleep much that night, tossed and turned so that her nightgown tied itself in knots around her. When she did manage to drop off, her dreams were nightmares of Bernie dying, alone and frightened, surrounded by the noise of battle.

In the morning, Serena dragged herself down to the dower house, tried to switch her thoughts off with some mindless dusting, failed miserably. It was nearly noon when she gave up, wandered back along the quiet path through the fields to the manor house. She reached the drive, gazed along it to the house, the grey stone warm and comforting in the sunshine with the colourful gardens off to the side. In the distance she heard the whicker of a horse, turned with a frown as she realised that the gentle clop of hooves was growing louder. The trees that lined the drive cast a dappled shade and it took her a moment to make out the shape of the figure on the horse as it neared and then she was running, running faster than she’d done for years.

“Bernie!” She flung herself at the horse as it slowed to a halt, held out her arms and let Bernie fall into them.

“Oh, Serena.” Bernie buried her head into Serena’s shoulders, clutched her tight. “Serena,” she whispered again and Serena felt tears dampen her shoulder.

“You’re alive,” Serena whispered as her fingers clenched in Bernie’s doublet, as she flung her hat on the floor to run her fingers through Bernie’s hair. “Darling.”

For endless moments they stood, wrapped around each other, until eventually Bernie drew away. “It’s over,” she said, a crack in her voice. “There’s no coming back from this. Parliament has won and god knows what will happen to the rest of us. I can’t stay, Serena. I just wanted to see you before I go.”

“Where?”

“France, maybe. Or Scotland, I’ve gained a little too much notoriety to stay here. There’ll be people looking for me.”

Serena looked at her; her dishevelled, dirty clothing covered with stains, half of which she suspected were blood, the tangled blonde hair that no longer fell in elaborate ringlets. “No, they’re not,” she said, with sudden clarity, “They might be looking for Captain Wolfe, they won’t be looking for Berenice Wolfe. Bernie! Stay here with me, I’ll help. I’ve repaired the dower house, you can stay there for a while until things are quieter. Look,” she pointed down the quiet path through the fields. “Head that way and you’ll find it. It’s out of the way of the village and nobody’s working in these fields at the moment. I’ll join you there in half an hour, with supplies.”

Bernie stared at her, silently and Serena took her shoulders, gave her a little shake. “Come on Bernie, it’s a better idea than trying to cross the country without being caught.”

“You’re right,” Bernie said eventually. “It’s a good idea.” She raised Serena’s hands to her lips and kissed her palm. “God, I love you.”

“And I love you. Now, go.”

Serena gave her a little push and Bernie managed a little smile, swung herself back onto her horse and trotted off down the lane. Serena watched her for a moment then hurried back to the house, running through in her mind the things she would need to change Bernie back into Berenice, a war-stained Captain into a demure lady.

Luckily she’d spent enough time working on the dower house that Morven didn’t raise an eyebrow as she collected various items. She picked her longest dresses from her wardrobe and her sewing kit so she could alter them to fit Bernie a little better. Her combs and curling rags were stowed in her bag too, along with a variety of cosmetics. Last stop was the kitchen where she begged several pies from Henrik who passed them over with a raised eyebrow but no questions. Then, finally, clutching an over-stuffed bag, she walked swiftly down the path to the dower house.

She could see a trail of smoke rising from the chimney as she neared the house and when she pushed open the thick wooden door it was to see a blaze dancing in the grate. Bernie had not only got the fire going but had found a pan and was heating up a large amount of water. She jumped as the door opened and then relaxed as she saw it was Serena. “I could do with a wash,” she said, “Hope you don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t.” Serena unpacked her bag onto the table, noticed Bernie eyeing up the pies. “Here,” she cut a couple of slices and handed one over. “When did you last eat?”

“Yesterday morning, I think?” Bernie said around a mouthful, then sighed. “I’ve missed Henrik’s cooking.”

“Have as much as you want. There’s a bath in the pantry, I’ll go and fetch it.” Serena busied herself sorting the bath, placing it in front of the fire and then fetching some cold water from the well. When the water in the pan was suitably hot she poured it carefully in, mixed it all up till it was an inviting temperature; hot, but not scalding.

Bernie started shedding clothes while eating and Serena turned away, wondering if she should go elsewhere, but Bernie caught her hand. “Stay?”

Serena nodded, pulled out one of the gowns to give herself something to focus on. She started unpicking the hem, staring at it forcefully as Bernie’s shirt and breeches hit the floor, followed by her binder.

“This is heaven,” Bernie sighed as she sank back into the warm water.

Serena glanced up, smiled at the blissful expression on her face and then frowned as she noticed the bruises over Bernie’s body.

“I’m a bit battered,” Bernie admitted as she noted Serena’s face. “Some of these are just from my armour; it’s not precisely comfortable. And in the battle? Well, I was lucky just to get bruises.”

“What happened?” Serena asked before she could catch herself. “I’m sorry – you don’t have to talk about it.”

“It’s alright, I probably should. Cromwell happened. His new ‘model army’ was too much for us. All our infantry, all my men.” A tear trickled down Bernie’s face and she swiped it away impatiently. “I don’t know how I got out. Just luck.”

“Raf and Dom?”

“I don’t know, we got separated. I think they might have been captured, but Raf was talking about going back to Scotland and he’d take Dom with them, if they escaped.” She fell silent then, set about cleaning herself vigorously and Serena didn’t ask any more questions, kept her head down and worked until the hem was down on both dresses.

Finally Bernie pulled herself upright, towelled herself dry, wrapped the towel around herself and stepped out of the bath. Serena looked at her critically. “Your hair needs a good wash. You sit down here and let me do it.” She pushed Bernie gently down to sit by the bath and guided her head backwards, grabbed a jug and used it to tip water down Bernie’s hair. It was a mess, dirty and matted, so Serena fetched her comb as well, teasing out the tangles as well as the dirt. Kneeling by an almost naked Bernie, desire rose like a wave but she pushed it down firmly. There would, hopefully, be time for that later on. Right now, Bernie needed looking after. She washed and combed, rubbed her fingers in Bernie’s hair until it was gleaming blonde again and Bernie hummed at her touch.

“This is lovely.”

“Well, all done now.” Serena pulled her upright and squeezed the excess water from her hair. “Let it dry for a while and then I’ll put rags in it to curl it.” She helped Bernie to stand, rubbed her own knees which ached from long minutes kneeling. “Let’s get you dressed.” Petticoats first, of which Serena luckily had a vast number, then she pulled the deep blue gown over Bernie’s head, looked at it critically.

“Not too short. I’ll re-hem it later.” She laced up the front of the gown, pulling it as tight as she could. “You’re a lot thinner than me, I’ll have to adjust this when I have time.”

She stepped back to see the full effect, swallowed as she stared at the vision that Bernie had become. Months of seeing her in men’s clothes couldn’t have prepared her for the way that the dress clung to her slim body, the cut of the bodice just showing the swell of her breasts.

“How do I look?”

“You’re beautiful,” Serena whispered.

“I feel ridiculous.” Bernie fidgeted at the neckline of the gown.

“You don’t look it, believe me.” Serena caught Bernie’s hands, held them tightly, “You’ll get used to it. You’ve been in breeches for so long, of course it’ll take some adjusting.” She let her gaze wander up and down Bernie’s body again and then laughed as she spotted Bernie’s toes peeking out from under the gown. “And I’ll find you some shoes.”

Bernie cast a wistful look at her boots. “I’m going to miss those.”

“You can’t wear them with a dress though.” Serena caught the uncertainty in Bernie’s eyes, cupped her cheek with a gentle hand. “It’ll all be alright Bernie, I promise.”

 

Nobody was particularly surprised that evening by Serena’s declaration that she was going to spend the night in the dower house; she’d been talking about it for so long. She waited until the children were in bed, kissed them goodnight and then packed a bag. Nightclothes for herself and Bernie, wine, several more pies from Henrik and a good handful of candles. The night air was warm as she strolled down the path, looking carefree as though inside her heart wasn’t thumping at the thought of another night with Bernie.

She patted Bernie’s horse, safely tied up by the side of the house, with water and hay showing that Bernie had been busy after she’d left that afternoon.

“It’s me,” she called as she pushed open the door, then she laughed softly as she spotted Bernie, curled up in front of the fire, sound asleep.

“Bernie,” she said softly, “Bernie, I’m back.”

“Hmmm?” Bernie rolled over, blinked sleepily and then smiled. “Hello, you.”

“I’ve brought dinner and nightclothes. You didn’t have to sleep here you know, there is a perfectly serviceable bed upstairs.”

Bernie rubbed her eyes and clambered to her feet. “I didn’t mean to. The day caught up with me. More pie!” she sat at the table eagerly, “You’re spoiling me.”

“And wine. I thought we could celebrate.” Serena poured out two glasses. “To you coming back safe.”

“And to our future.”

 

“Good morning.” Serena rolled over to smile at Bernie. “Ready to be Berenice again?”

Bernie kissed her. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Serena dressed herself, feeling Bernie’s eyes on her as she did, trying to ignore the feeling in her stomach that made her want to fling herself straight back into bed. “Your turn now.” She held out Bernie’s gown and Bernie pulled herself reluctantly out of bed. Serena let her eyes wander over her body, greedy for more after months without her. The worst of Bernie’s bruises were fading purple now but Serena had added a few more last night, little blooms of red along her hips.

“I thought you were going to help me?” Bernie said, the lilt of her voice suggesting she wasn’t entirely unhappy with Serena’s open admiration. She held out her hands as Serena dropped the gown over her head, laced it up and then held out the petticoats for her to step into. Luckily Bernie’s feet were of a similar size to Serena’s so she’d brought a pair of her old ones which would do for the moment. Once she was clothed Serena fussed with her hair, removing her rag curlers and pulling back half the ringlets to catch them at the back of Bernie’s head, leaving some free at the front to frame her face.

“You’re stunning,” she said as she stepped back. “I wish I’d brought a mirror so you could see for yourself.”

“I still feel like I’m pretending, but thank you.”

Bernie looked up at Serena with so much love that Serena thought her heart might burst from it. She breathed out slowly, then gathered her wits. “Let’s get back to the house and introduce you.”

“They’ll recognise me, you know.”

“But they won’t say anything, don’t worry. And nobody looking at you now would ever believe that you were in the midst of battle four days ago.”

Serena tucked Bernie’s hand into the crook of her arm and they left the house together, Serena closing and locking the door behind them. They left Bernie’s horse where it was for the moment – Mikey could be despatched to fetch it later – and then, as if they didn’t have a care in the world, they strolled down the path to the manor house.

 

Naturally, the first person they met, on the drive, was Jac. She took one look at them and grinned. “My lady,” she said, “And who is your friend?”

“This is Berenice Wolfe,” Serena said, “Come to stay for a while.”

Jac dipped a curtsey and Bernie returned it with only a small wobble. Jac’s grin grew larger. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Berenice.”

“Likewise,” Bernie said, smothered her own laugh as Jac winked elaborately at her.

As they would have passed her, Jac made a halting movement and Serena looked at her quizzically. “My lady,” Jac said and Serena’s eyebrows shot up at being addressed as such twice in one conversation with Jac, “I wanted to – inform you. That is. Fletch and I are going to be married.” She lifted her head defiantly as if expecting Serena to challenge her but Serena only smiled.  
“I’m delighted to hear it. And are you taking on Mikey too?”

Jac rolled her eyes. “Naturally.” Then she smiled. “Thank you.” And, wonder of wonders, she curtsied.

 

The hall was quiet when they entered, all the respective members of the households engaged in tasks elsewhere.

“Let’s talk to the children first,” Serena suggested and they headed upstairs to the classroom.

Bernie slipped along the corridor to Serena’s chamber and Serena tapped on the classroom door. “Excuse me, Master Levy, but may I have Elinor and Jason for a few minutes?”

She led an intensely curious pair of children down the corridor and into her chamber. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she started, but Jason spotted Bernie before she could finish her sentence.

“Captain Bernie!” He threw himself at her and she caught him with a laugh. “You’re not dead! Why are you wearing a dress?”

Bernie beckoned Elinor closer, caught both their hands and pulled them onto the chair with her. “I know this is confusing. I am Captain Bernie, but I was only pretending to be a man. I’m really a woman. You can still call me Bernie as long as you remember not to call me Captain. Can you do that?”

Jason tipped his head, considering. “Will you still play chess with me?”

Bernie smiled. “Of course.”

“Thank you, Bernie.”

Elinor didn’t smile. “Were you in the battle? What happened to Raf and Dom?”

Bernie squeezed her hand. “We were. I don’t know what happened to them, but I promise if I find out I’ll tell you.”

“No matter what?” Elinor challenged her.

“No matter what,” Bernie agreed.

Serena ushered them out then, back to their lessons and turned to Bernie. “That went well.” Then she spotted tears in Bernie’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I just – I never dreamed that I could come back here, that I could be...”

“Be what?”

“Happy.”

Serena pulled Bernie close, cupped her face with one hand and teased her ringlets with the other. “Now you’re home, we can be happy forever, if you want.”

Bernie kissed her, drew her over to the bed and pushed her down gently. “Oh, I want.”


End file.
